


Let Them All Come as They Will

by eiqhties



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A lot of bunting, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Banter, Belfast, Dick Jokes, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, Recreational Drug Use, Sharing a Bed, Sickening amount of cheese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 01:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 50,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6100299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiqhties/pseuds/eiqhties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"I’m sure you could have a threesome if you wanted, Niall. Just, you know, not right now.”</i><br/>Or; The One Where They're All in University in Northern Ireland, and Zayn is Oblivious as Hell feat. Bunting, RomCom Moments and Entirely Too Many Dick Jokes</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Them All Come as They Will

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally here, the Big Bang fic that took me a great number of months, a great number of tears and, clearly, a great number of words. Shout out to [Emma](http://cadetcuttlefish.tumblr.com) for reading this through, talking me out of a lot of panics, and generally being the most supportive person I could ask for. Same goes to [Pia](http://kissingziall.tumblr.com). This fic probably wouldn't be anywhere near the same if not for you guys. 
> 
> This fic is my love letter to Belfast, because if all the other cities get one - then my city deserves one too. Any places mentioned in here are entirely real. (@Boojum, sponsor me ;)
> 
> The incredible [Loop](http://salingen.tumblr.com) did some incredible [art](http://salingen.tumblr.com/post/139975264428) WHICH I LOVE AND HAVE BEEN SCREAMING ABOUT FOR DAYS

Zayn drags himself out of the shower at just after half eleven in the morning.

He’s shivering, because heating in their house is a luxury that none of them can afford, and there’s a threadbare towel tucked around his waist. It doesn’t help that his skin is still ice cold from when the water had lost all its heat when he was rinsing out his hair. Louis had clearly been in the kitchen downstairs - because turning the taps on when people are in the shower is his favourite pastime.

Sometimes Zayn thinks that he stakes the kitchen out, lying in wait for the next innocent person to take their shower; hiding away so that he ruins their morning.

Zayn has told him that it’s a very advanced form of sadism. Louis has told Zayn that it’s hilarious.

He’s en-route to his room, keen to get properly dressed before someone appears and tries to pull the towel off him. In the hallway he stops. There, in the middle of the floor, Niall is lying down, asleep.

Niall had already been there when Zayn had gone into the shower, but he isn’t the heaviest sleeper at the best of times, never mind lying down on the hallway floor. Zayn thought the noise of the shower would have woken him, made him get up and move to his own bed. He hardly looks comfortable, lying there.

Niall’s head is pillowed on his hands, and he’s curled up without a blanket on their questionably beige coloured carpet.

Louis, back in their first year of living in the house, had talked about all of them upgrading it. He’d been convinced that the landlord would be delighted with them changing it from the beige monstrosity that it currently was. Everyone had been in agreement, until Liam had pointed out how well the beige hid stains. Even the massive red wine stain from Liam and Niall’s joint twentieth birthday was pretty hard to see, anymore.

Subsequently, the questionable beige carpet had stayed, and the money they’d all gathered had gone on more booze, instead.

The hangover from that weekend still haunts Zayn, sometimes.

Zayn continues to stare at where his best friend is asleep on the floor. He briefly considers leaving him there, but Niall is twisted, and it really does look uncomfortable. Too uncomfortable. He sighs, shuffles closer to Niall, and aims a relatively gentle kick to the fleshiest part of his arse. It was too gentle to have hurt him, and Zayn knows that. Still, Niall groans like he’s just been shot. Twisting on the floor and mumbling,

“Fuck off, Zayn.”

“How’d you know it was me?” Zayn asks, surprised. Niall is yet to open his eyes, or even act like he’s awake at all, and as gross as they are – his feet really aren’t disfigured enough for Niall to identify him by them alone.

“Process of elimination. Louis and Harry would have sat on me, Liam would have tapped me awake ‘cause he’s lovely, and Jesy’n Perrie would have just ignored me. That leaves you, Malik.”

Zayn blinks, “Fair enough. Why’re you asleep on the carpet?”

“I ended up here.” Niall croaks. He makes no attempt to move from his position face down on the floor. “I think Ari and me started doing tequila shots last night, mate. In fact, I know we did. I feel all salty inside." Zayn laughs, loudly. It makes Niall groan again, covering his ears with his hands and curling further into a foetal position,

“Please, Zayn, babe. As much as your laugh normally does wonderful things for me, right now everything is making me want to vomit. Especially loud noises and you laughing at me. Pity me, Zaynie. Don’t mock.”

Zayn laughs again, but a lot softer, “Get into a bed then, you idiot. You’re making my back hurt just looking at you. How long have you even been sleeping there?”

Niall shifts around on the floor, flopping over like a fish, so that he’s lying on his back. He puts his right arm over his eyes, blocking the light. His other hand fumbles around in his pocket until he pulls out his phone. Somehow, Niall is the only one out of all of them that hasn’t smashed the screen. Niall says it’s the luck of the Irish, but Zayn is convinced he’s just magic.

“About two hours.” Niall tells him, squinting at the time. Zayn blinks at him.

“You fell asleep at nine am?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry. M’doing better than last Saturday, least this time I actually slept. Mum hasn’t called me either, which is good. Trying to have a conversation with her that hungover was fucking _awful_.” Niall finally pushes himself to standing, staggering only slightly when he does. He burps, scratches his ass, looks Zayn up and down, and grins.

It’s a far cry from the intense brightness of his usual smiles, but it’s still impressive for how he must be feeling. That said, Niall always has impressive smiles.

“Nice towel, Zaynie baby,” Niall leers. Zayn stares at him, unimpressed.

“I refuse to be judged by someone that slept on the floor.”

Niall’s eyebrow quirks. He continues to smile, even as he winces and puts one hand up to his right temple. Clearly, the drink is starting to wear off, and the headache is starting to kick in.

“Don’t judge me,” He says, then. “Fuck. Standing up was a bad idea. My head hurts as bad as it did the week Harry thought he should be a bagpipe player.”

“That was a bad time for this house,” Zayn agrees, solemnly. He loves Harry with all of his heart, but bagpipes were the worst decision he ever made. On four separate occasions police had been called to their door due to noise complaints.

Noise complaints in an area made up entirely of students.

“It was.” Niall says, nodding. “Anyway,” He pokes Zayn in the chest, hard, “You don’t get to talk about sleeping arrangements with me, Mister fuckin’ Malik. Don’t think I don’t know.”  

Zayn falters from where he’s been starting to inch back to his room, on the hunt to get out of wearing just a towel. “What do you mean?” He asks. There’s been a solid amount of time since Niall has seen him pick anyone up from a club, be it girl or boy. There’s also been a solid amount of time since he’s told Niall details of any of his exploits.

Unless, of course, Niall somehow noticed something was going on last night. Zayn doesn’t know how he could have. Niall had been hammered, well on his way to wasted by the time that Zayn went up to bed, never mind when she followed him up an hour later. Niall shouldn’t have noticed, shouldn’t have picked up on anything at all.

Of course Niall noticed.

Both of Niall’s hands rise, as if pleading his innocence, “Hey, man, I’m not judging you for shagging someone fit. Like, it’s _Perrie_ , you’re not exactly slumming it. Just, y'know, don’t mess it up, yeah? We need her share of the rent. I also like her. She still laughs at my jokes.”

Zayn blinks, stares at Niall for a few seconds, “How’d you know?”

Niall stares at him, “Well, I tell a joke, and then she laughs.”

“Don’t be a dick, Nialler.”

“See, she would have laughed at that. Anyway, you know me, I always know these things,” Niall says. Zayn continues to stare at him, and he heaves a dramatic sigh, “Alrigh’, spoilsport. She told me last night. Said that you were in her room, then whispered something about how you two have been fucking all secret, like. She gave me a pretty avid description of your cock, too, but I’m choosing to never repeat that bit. Mainly for my own mental health, like, Jesus, mate - there are some things I didn’t need to know.”

“You gonna tell the others?” Zayn asks.  

“About your cock?”

Zayn sticks his tongue out at him, he’s not worried about Niall knowing. Not really. Niall is his best friend, has been for two years. He knows things far worse about Zayn than who he’s been shagging, and hasn’t told anyone about them. “I don’t know how you can banter like this when you look half dead.” He says, in lieu of a reply. Niall laughs.

“Me neither,” He says, shaking his head. Then, he promptly goes white and puts a hand to his mouth, as if he’s going to vomit. “Fuck. Remind me to not move my head, today, that was disgusting.” He takes a juddery breath in, then stands a little straighter, “Also, no. Fuck me, of course I’m not going to tell anyone about who you’re shagging,” Niall pulls a face, “I hate awkward conversations like that, everyone always ends up fighting. You know, Harry will throw a fucking plate and Louis will piss off somewhere for a week. You know that if people find out about you two it’ll lead to an in house fight, right?" Zayn nods, and Niall goes on,

"Anyway, the last time someone had a conversation like that with Liam, he told everyone that he and Sophia had a threesome. _After_ they broke up. That was just depressing, on, like, every level.” As Niall’s been talking, he’s gradually been inching himself in the direction of Zayn’s bedroom. The second his hand is on the door, he throws it open, flinging himself onto Zayn’s bed and burying himself in duvet. “How come Liam’s had a threesome and I haven’t?”

“You have your own room, you know.” Zayn says, dryly, following behind. “Still, I’m sure you could have a threesome if you wanted, Niall. Just, you know, not right now.”

“I feel like microwaved porridge looks.” Niall agrees, solemnly. “And I can’t sleep in my own bed, Harry and Louis were in there. I think they fucked. I’m not entering my room again until Louis buys me new sheets.”

“How do you know I didn’t fuck Perrie in that bed, Horan?”

“You would have told me before I got in.” Niall mumbles, sounding half asleep already, “You’ve always been nice enough to tell me if you’ve got come stained sheets before, I assumed you would have there now. Don’t act like you didn’t know this was my destination aim.”

“Point.” Zayn says, shutting the door and dropping his towel, pulling on some boxers. Niall’s eyes are shut, so he’s not looking, but Zayn wouldn’t care if he were. There have been too many drunken games of Louis’ idea of truth and dare for any of them to still be concerned with nudity around each other. Zayn’s pretty sure that every single person on his course saw him naked in fresher’s week after a particularly wild game.

Not that they’d have anything to complain about, if they did.

“M’gonna walk to the reptile shop, in a bit. Need to pick up some stuff for Arnie.” Zayn tells the lump of blankets on his bed. The only parts of Niall that can still be seen are the top of his head, and one leg from the knee down. He’s still wearing jeans, and Zayn would tell him to take them off, but he doesn’t think that Niall could handle being asked to move again. “You want me to pick you up something from Boojum on my way back?”

There’s a slow shifting, and then Niall’s face appears, “Yes,” He says, decisively, “A burrito bowl. With extra guac. And the mild salsa, because I feel sensitive today.”

“Usual for everything else?”

Niall nods, the static from the pillowcase making his hair go fuzzy. Zayn smiles down at him in amusement, “Got it,” He says, dropping a kiss on Niall’s forehead, and stumbling his way down the stairs, finally dressed.

*

In the kitchen, people don’t seem to be in a much better state than Niall was. Zayn looks around at the debris left over from last night, and has never been gladder to skip out on their usual Saturday night routine. There are skins and vague trails of tobacco and weed spilling onto the counter. Louis’ grinder is sitting on the floor, looking like someone stepped on it. The whole of one of the countertops is covered in empty beer cans, and it smells like someone died inside the radiator.

“Jesus,” Zayn says, looking around the mess, “No wonder everyone is dying.”

“Morning, babe,” Louis says, tiredly. He’s curled completely around a cup of tea, with Harry asleep on his shoulder and drooling. The two of them are collapsed on the dodgy sofa that Jesy shoved in the corner of their kitchen after she found it for, ‘dead cheap’ at some antique store. The leather is cracked, and the colour is some strange mottled brown-red that Zayn still can’t figure out the name for.

It’s also the comfiest sofa in the world.

Niall’s dad once asked them if they wanted a new one during one of his monthly visits, and everyone had placed themselves on it and scowled at him. Needless to say, it’s a firm house favourite.

“Morning,” Zayn says, smiling at the state Louis makes, “What time did you get to bed at?”

“Five, maybe? I’ve got to run into town and pick up some stuff, knew it would never happen if I didn’t force myself out of bed sometime early. I got up when I heard you go into the shower.”

“Yeah, I know. I felt you turn on the taps, you dick.”

Louis smiles at him, teeth flashing, and then buries himself back in his mug of tea, “Hey, be nice to me, I also saved you a bagel.”

Zayn opens the bread bin and is delighted to see that there is, actually, a plain bagel left. It’s one of the New York style ones, too. The good kind, which Louis picks up after his shift in Tesco’s, is over. He sticks it in the toaster, and leans against the counter, looking at Louis, “Heard you and Harry stole Niall’s bed last night, as well, bro.” Zayn says, Louis says nothing, but he waggles his eyebrows.

Zayn pulls a face at him he fills the kettle up and flicks it on. He then reaches up to grab some instant coffee off the shelf. It’s Tesco’s own brand, like most things they eat, because Louis gets it for dead cheap. The coffee has kind of congealed together, because he’s the only person in the whole house that drinks it, and even then it’s not that often. Still, it’s not too bad when he finally manages to lump it into his mug.

His mug is one of the ones that changes when you pour boiling water into it. His, in particular, has a photograph man on it wearing swim trunks, except, when the water hits it, the swim trunks disappear, revealing a rather impressive cock.

Harry bought it for him the first year of university. It had been right after Zayn had stumbled his way through explaining his bisexuality, and he's fond of it. It’s been overused now, and the heat feature of it is broken. The swimming suit is permanently off. Man’s cock permanently on display; something Niall thinks is ten times funnier than it actually is.  

“Where’s Liam?” Zayn asks, glancing around as if Liam will appear out of nowhere. Normally Liam is the sensible one out of all of them, up the earliest with a pot of tea and breakfast sitting ready.

The man is a saviour, honestly.

Louis grins, “Pretty sure he went to bed later than Nialler, last night. I walked past his room and he’s completely out of it. Don’t think he’ll be up for a while, poor babe. Ariana’s asleep beside him, too. He’s on top of the covers, bless. It would be sweet if I hadn’t seen how fucked he was last night, I’m pretty sure he just couldn’t cope with lifting up some blankets. Oh, yeah, did you know Ari was over last night? I have no idea when she turned up.”

“Um, I think so?” Zayn’s not properly paying attention to Louis anymore, more focused on trying to pour the water into his mug without splashing himself. The lid has been fucked since Jade accidentally karate kicked it a few months ago in a dance competition with Liam. Liam had punched the light bulb. Leigh-Anne had declared it a draw. “Niall mentioned something about the two of them doing tequila shots.”  

Zayn doesn’t know when Ariana came into Niall’s life, just that the two of them have had some vague, undefined thing forever. It mostly consists of her sitting herself in Niall’s lap, Niall styling her hair for her, and the two of them drinking more than the average human should be able to when they go out drinking together. Their tolerance is pretty much exactly matched, right down to the shot. It would be impressive were it not so strangely disturbing.

Louis shrugs. The movement of his shoulders jerks Harry’s head, and he starts, waking up against Louis. When he catches sight of Zayn standing there, he smiles, “Zayn! How was your night of sleeping and sensible decisions?”

Zayn raises his mug to Harry, “Very nice. I’m walking down Botanic later, by the way, said I’d get a Boojum for Niall.”

“Buy me one.” Harry says, “I want a vegetarian one, with the white rice, and as much guac as they can shove in there. Also the sweetcorn salsa, and lettuce.”

Zayn squints at him, “I’m not going to remember that.”

“Why not?”

“Because why would I remember your order?”

“Do you remember Niall’s order?”

“Obviously, like.”

“So why not mine?”

“Because I don’t like you.”

“Oh, and you like Niall?”

Zayn smiles, teeth showing, takes another gulp of his coffee. It tastes like shit, and Zayn wrinkles his nose as he swallows. Someday soon he’s going to have to admit to himself that concealed instant coffee doesn’t taste good, “Everyone likes Niall,” He says to Harry.

Harry frowns at Zayn, but doesn’t dispute him. It’s true. Everyone _does_ like Niall.

Somehow, in the two and a half years they’ve all lived in Belfast, he’s managed to make friends with people on the door of every bar and pub in the city. It’s incredibly beneficial for getting snuck into places free. Not to mention, Jesy recently started working behind the bar in Lavery’s - which means she can slip them all the occasional free drinks when it’s busy  enough no one will notice. Zayn definitely picked friends that benefit his, rather lacking, bank account.

Zayn sticks his tongue out at Harry, and laughs when Harry pulls a face back at him. Louis looks between the two of them smiling, before he tips forward and presses a kiss to Harry’s cheek, right where his dimple would be.

“I’ll walk down Botanic with Zayn, babe. I have to pick up some stuff, yeah? I’ll grab you some food on my way home.”

Harry’s face softens at this, and he smiles at Louis in thanks, leans against him. Zayn looks at the two of the for a few beats longer, before his toast pops, and he turns himself back into the counter, busies himself with buttering his bagel instead. It’s too early to look at Harry and Louis’ normal levels of sickening affection, so he’s distracted when Perrie walks into the kitchen.

He’s humming to himself, some song he’s never actually heard on the radio, but Niall kept singing all last month.

“Alright, boys?” Perrie asks, and Zayn jumps, before he pivots to see her. When he does, he smiles. She’s wearing a strappy navy top and bright pink tracksuit shorts that have, “Gorgeous” written across the arse. Zayn looks at them, trying to figure out where he’s seen them before, then remembers that Niall bought them as part of his Christmas present to Liam, last year.

Zayn still has those photos saved to his laptop.

Perrie smiles at him, coming up to stand beside him. She knocks her hip against his, and Zayn shoves her gently in the arm. He glances at her sideways, takes in her soft hair, still not styled, and her make-up free face. Takes in how she looks like this, thinks about how pretty she is. Thinks about how he’s managed to secure himself a pretty good catch.

Without anyone – bar Niall - finding out, too.

Only, sleeping with people in the house is something that everyone gets weird about. There have been too many awkward situations that have resulted in too many people having to move out of the house after people were shagging each other. Hell, Jesy only moved in with them at the start of this year; it was after Liam and Danielle’s disastrous break up. Danielle had refused to live in a house with Liam anymore, and they’d needed someone to make up her share of the rent.

None of that even touches on Niall’s horrifying breakup with Barbara. The Smiths had played for a solid week straight, after that. Louis had snapped the vinyl, eventually, while Niall watched. Apparently it was supposed to be a cleansing ritual.

So the unwritten rule is there, with the exception of Harry and Louis. Only because Harry and Louis come as a package deal. Zayn figures that if you follow your boyfriend across the water to Northern Ireland, then you’re definitely in it for the long haul.

That said, Harry and Louis have always been in it for the long haul. The two of them got matching tattoos the day Harry turned eighteen. Zayn’s learned that the two of them are the exception to pretty much every rule he could think of. Such as the rule you shouldn’t get a matching tattoo with your boyfriend. Or the rule that you shouldn’t continue to date the same person from when you were sixteen.

Zayn couldn’t imagine them any other way.

“So, how was your night, Pezza?” Louis asks. He says it slowly, like he’s trying to press her for information, leaning back into the sofa and looping his arm over Harry’s shoulder. Harry slouches back to lean against him.

“Oh, you know,” Perrie says, very carefully not meeting Zayn’s eyes, “It was alright.”

“You went to bed pretty early, for you, babe.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t drink. There comes a stage when watching all of you tripping over each other smashed just isn’t that exciting anymore, darling.” Perrie replies, walking across the kitchen and pulling some bran flakes down off one of the shelves. Zayn has been wondering who bought those Bran Flakes for a solid month. He and Niall had poured massive bowls when stoned, once, and given up halfway through; disappointed and still hungry.

“Fair enough,” Louis says, his eyes flicking from Perrie to Zayn, “You gonna be ready soon, Zayn?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says, “Just gotta grab my shoes.”

“Sick,” Louis jumps to his feet, ignoring the way Harry just slumps back into the warmth he left, “Me too.”

*

Northern Ireland had been an accident, for Zayn.

The plan had initially been to stay in England, preferably as close to his parents as possible. He’d only gone to the Queen’s University open day because it meant he was guaranteed a couple of days of school, due to the fact the open day had been on a Thursday, and he had to get a plane to go to it.

Instead of a holiday, Zayn had ended up finding his future university.

Queen’s was prestigious without being impossible to get into. Beautiful and haphazard all at the same time. Half of the campus was gathered close together, and half of it was spread, randomly throughout Belfast. Down side streets, out of the way. The whole campus was unexplainable.

Belfast as a city was kind of like that, simultaneously crumbling and new. Antique and modern. Both incredibly easy to navigate and as maze like as a labyrinth. Honestly, Zayn doesn’t know how tourists manage to come away from the city satisfied, because he’s lived in Belfast for two years, now, and he’s still constantly finding new shops, new streets, new art.

His housemates had appeared to him in the same, half accidental way that Belfast had.

It had been in the first week, some fresher’s event on in the Limelight bar. Zayn had been awkwardly tucked into the corner, trying to ignore the thrum of people with accents he still wasn’t fully used to. That had been when he’d head Louis on the other side of the bar. Louis, loud as always.  Louis, with his incredibly strong, incredibly _English_ accent.

He’d floated across the room, found himself at the bar, where Louis had been standing, entertaining a group of people with one hand tucked into the back pocket of Harry’s jeans. Harry himself had been standing, all dimples and curls, effortless style and charisma, as Louis practically forced everyone around him into listening to the two of them. That was what they’d been like the first night Zayn had seen them, and that was what they were like now. Completely captivating, stupidly frustrating.

After that, it was inevitable. Louis had pretty much adopted him then and there in the bar. Heard him speak and said, “Bradford, ay?” Like a kid on Christmas discovering something fantastic. He’d pulled him over to a tiny table, where Liam Payne had been shoved in, elbow to elbow with Niall Horan. And, well, that was that. The five of them were inseparable.

Harry, Louis, Liam, Zayn, Niall.

Niall.

Looking back on it now, it’s stupid. His and Niall’s friendship should not have happened the way it did. Zayn hadn’t even spoken to Niall, that first night, not really.  All of the other’s, sure, but that first night he and Niall just hadn’t clicked. Hadn’t connected. Zayn had spent the whole time leaning over the table talking about comic books with Liam and Jade, while Niall had been off to the side, talking to anyone else _but_ Zayn.

Now, Zayn can’t remember when Niall became such an important part of his life. He can’t remember when Niall became the one that he’d go to first with anything, but it did. Undoubtedly, indisputably, Zayn and Niall are best friends.

The girls had come later; they’d met them through Danielle, Liam’s ex-girlfriend. Danielle had been first, sure, but the rest of the girls had stuck around when she hadn’t wanted to. None of them really talk about it, but it’s clear they’d always been closer to Liam than her, anyway. Jade, Jesy, Leigh-Anne, Perrie and Ariana.

Finally, Ed and Ellie had found their way in. Ed bonding with Harry over his collection of stupid tattoos, and Niall over the importance of an acoustic guitar. Ellie came with Ed, all blonde hair and easy smiles. They’d been a good combination.

Their group is a strange mix of people, especially due to the fact that all of them are from outside of Northern Ireland. In a way, it made sense that they all banded together. Belfast isn’t exactly the most popular overseas destination, and Zayn, most of the time, feels like he sticks out quite a bit. Almost everyone in Zayn’s classes and lectures is from Northern Ireland, born and bred within a maximum of an hour drive of Belfast.

It was one of those kids that had told Zayn about the house up for sale, two years ago. 14 Agincourt Street, their house had a brown door and a tiny, all concrete yard, it was in an area of Belfast more commonly referred to as the, “Holylands,” because of the street names like, “Palestine,” and, “Cairo.” When Zayn had told his father where he was going to be living for the rest of his student years, Yaser had frowned and told him to be careful.

To be fair, he probably should have listened to his father.  

The Holylands is a bit of a dive area, ninety percent students, and a hundred percent over-crowded. None of them are brave enough to get a car, half because there’s definitely nowhere around that they could park, and half because Leigh got hers stolen off Damascus Street on three separate occasions last year. Still, it’s a perfect location for getting to the university buildings, and the city centre. Nothing is further than a forty minute walk away, plus it’s cheap, and there’s enough room for all of them to have their own bedroom, even if that did mean forfeiting one of the downstairs rooms.

Zayn loves it.

Clambering up the stairs, he tries his best not to disturb the people still sleeping. Zayn knows how brutal it is to be woken up when you’re hanging, and he’s not going to be the one that fucks with people like that. Plus, the girls can be downright murderous when woken up. Zayn’s a little scared of them. He figures getting in their good graces now means that it will extend to him when he’s the one dying with a headache.

In his room, his lizard, Arnie has been sitting reproachfully on his log for the past five days. Zayn’s been shoving lettuce and kale leaves in the tank, and Arnie’s been eating all of them, but it seems begrudging. Not that Zayn’s surprised, if he was being forced to eat nothing but kale for a straight week, he’d be angry about it too.

He’s not looking to do much, today. Just planning to walk to City Reptiles, the local shop, and back. Pick up some grasshoppers for Arnie and a burrito for Niall.

He tiptoes into his room, silently trying to locate his shoes by only the light of Arnie’s heat lamp, not wanting anything else to wake Niall up. He’s been getting so little sleep, lately, what with coursework and socialising and general stuff to do. It’s started to get to him, Zayn can tell. He just wants him to look healthy, again.

When he does locate his shoes, he’s about to slide out of the room, when a hand catches him around one of his belt loops, and he jumps. Looking down towards where Niall is lying, he smiles – only Niall’s eyes are poking out of the mound of covers.

“You scared the shit out of me, bro. Thought you were sleepin’.”

“Was, but you woke me up. Don’t worry about it, yeah? I’ll sleep when you’re out.”

“Why’d you scare me like that, then?”

Niall’s whole face appears, then. He smiles, and Zayn is helpless to not smile back, “I just wanted to tell you something.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Niall nods, seriously, “S’really important, like. Need you to remember.”

“Okay?”

“Don’t forget my burrito bowl.”

Zayn sticks his tongue out, and turns to leave again, before he’s, once more, pulled back in by Niall. “I also wanted to say that I love you.” Niall says, “Best mates, yeah?”

Zayn smiles. “Love you too, bro.” He says, and ducks down so he can place a quick kiss on Niall's cheek, “I’ll be back later.”

“With my burrito bowl?”

Zayn laughs, “With your burrito bowl.”

Niall blows him a lazy kiss on his way out the door.

*

Louis is waiting for him by the front door, denim jacket on.

“That thing stinks,” Zayn says, regarding Louis in disgust, “It smells like vomit, weed and cigarettes made their home in its fibres. Seriously, you smell like how I imagine Hell, or, like, every bad decision we’ve ever made.”

“I smell like an ocean breeze,” Louis replies, heavily shouldering open their door because it sticks, otherwise.

“Whatever you say, mate,” Zayn says, pulling the gate to their front garden shut behind him. It squeaks obnoxiously loudly, and Louis groans, grasps at his head,

“ _Stop_ , you fucker. Some of us are still recovering from Leigh-Anne’s version of a well-mixed drink.”

“Half vodka half something else?”

“Half vodka half Tesco’s own brand summer fruits squash.” Louis answers, and Zayn winces.

"Least you weren't downing a barrick, bro."

“Barrick” was the Northern Irish terminology for a £2, two litre bottle of cider. They were the quickest and cheapest way of getting you hammered.

They were also the quickest way to make you feel like regurgitated death the morning after.

Zayn had been told about them in his first month by some loud girl with a block black fringe and an accent stronger and harder to understand than even the worst people in Bradford. She’d shoved one in his hand, said, “Welcome to Northern Ireland!” And Zayn has been trying to forget about them ever since.

Louis laughs, loudly, “Nah, that was all Payno. S’why he’s so completely fucked, this morning.”  He then shivers, burying himself further into his jacket, “Shit, it’s cold, today.”

Zayn shrugs, “It’s not that bad, think you’re just fragile, mate.”

“I want comfort food and warmth,” Louis nods, then turns, eyes wide, to Zayn, “Bro, I need a Maggie May’s milkshake.”

“A milkshake goes directly against the idea of warmth, _Lewis_.”

Louis raises his middle finger, glaring at Zayn, “Yeah, but it goes directly _with_ the idea of comfort food. Don’t act like Maggie Mays isn’t your secret love, I know you sing it’s praises, Malik.”

“The last time we went there Leigh found a caterpillar in her salad.”

“Yeah,” Louis looks unperturbed, “But that was a salad. I don’t want to eat a salad. Also, it was the one on the Malone Road. We’ll go to the one on Botanic, s’closer to where we’re going, anyway. I want a milkshake.” He’s pouting like a child, now, looks to be seconds away from stamping his foot. “C’mon, Zayn. I’ll drag you there if I have to, it’s only half twelve, anyway, the reptile shop won’t be open until one.”

Zayn sighs, Louis has a point. He stands there for a few moments, still debating kicking up a fuss. Louis sticks his tongue out at him, “Come _on,_ Zayn! You can’t be that worried about getting back to Niall, he’s definitely asleep”

“I’m not worried about getting back to Niall, you dick. I just don’t want a milkshake. Or to accidentally eat a caterpillar.”

Louis doesn’t look convinced. He stands stock still, in the middle of their road, eyebrows raised. He’s waiting for Zayn to give in, Zayn knows this.

The sad thing is - he does give in. He always gives in.

“You’re buying.”

Louis laughs, wraps his arm around Zayn’s waist and burrows in close, tugging him down the road to Botanic park, “I never expected otherwise, Zayn, babe. C’mon, we’re going to talk and drink milkshakes. Two of your favourite things.”

Zayn says nothing in protest, but he does hold out from leaning into Louis’ weight for the whole three minutes it takes them to get to Rugby Road.  

Maybe one day he’ll be able to ignore him completely.

*

The Maggie Mays that Louis has dragged Zayn to is on Botanic Avenue. It’s tiny, and poky, and kind of expensive. Not to mention it’s normally one of the busiest places, bar Boojum, on the whole street, which means Zayn tries to avoid it like the plague. He doesn’t see much point in going in there, when there are a multitude of other good food places.

Food places in which Leigh didn’t find a caterpillar in her salad.

The caterpillar had been alive, like. Wriggling on the plate.

Zayn still doesn’t know why he had been the only one there so repulsed by the whole thing. Even Leigh had just blinked at it, before lifting up the plate and asking them to refund her for her food. “Nice free meal,” She’d said, after. Zayn had gagged.

“Stop glaring at me, Zayn,” Louis says, cheerfully running up the steps to Maggie Mays, “I’m going to buy the biggest chocolate fudge cake milkshake I can. Don’t judge me.”

“I’m judging you.”

Still, Zayn enters the café. It’s as quiet as Maggie Mays ever gets, only a couple of people sitting in the dark wooden booths. There is a singular, bored looking waitress behind the counter, she has dark purple eyeshadow and ginger hair, and she doesn’t even glance up when they walk in – bell over the door ringing softly.

The customers themselves sum up the only people who would ever drag themselves out of bed to go to a café on a Sunday morning. There’s one older man, tucked in by the front, looking out the window and reading a copy of the Belfast Telegraph, Louis sees it, and pulls a horrified face at Zayn. The only other people there are an incredibly soppy looking couple that Zayn has seen walking around Queen’s grounds before. The girl gives him a brief smile, before turning all of her focus back to her boyfriend.  

Louis claps his hands together, sliding onto one of the benches and raising his hand at the waitress, finally attracting her attention. Zayn slides in to the bench opposite him, and the two of them watch as the waitress ambles her way over. She’s pretty, and the second she’s by their table, Louis grins at her – so wide it’s slightly disarming.

“Y’alright, babe?” He says, “I know what I want, don’t need the menus, love, thanks. Chocolate fudge cake milkshake for me, please, the largest you can get, and I’ll give you an extra quid if you put more chocolate in there than you’re technically allowed.”

The girl laughs, writing Louis’ order down. She then turns, looks at Zayn, and Zayn reels.

“Uh,” He says, panicking slightly, even though it’s ridiculous – he gets the same thing every time he’s in here. “Caramel milkshake, please.” He looks up at her, again. She’s still staring at him, “Small, like.” She’s still looking at him, and he looks down at the table, drawing uncomfortable patterns in the wood with his finger. “Um, thanks?”

“You sure know your way ‘round for English blokes,” The waitress says, scribbling Zayn’s order down in her notebook and then looking up, smiling at Zayn again, “You go to Queens, or somethin’?”

“Yeah, the two of us are doing English courses.” Louis says, cutting in and finally breaking the girl’s gaze from him, “‘Cept I’m doing drama and English, and he’s doing English and creative writing. Thinks he’s an artist, or summat.”

“You look like one,” The waitress says, “You know, all great looking. Like a picture of you could get fifty thousand notes on tumblr, or something,” She stops, laughs, puts a hand over her mouth, “Ah, scundered for me. Can’t believe I just revealed that I use tumblr.”

The two of them look at her, wryly, and she flushes, tucking her notebook back into the pocket of her apron. “Sorry, lads, you don’t care, he probably gets it all the time! I’ll get you your milkshakes now.”

Louis raises his eyebrows as she walks away, and then turns to Zayn, incredulous.

“How’d you do that?” He asks.

“Dunno what you mean, mate.”

“Yes you do, you just look at a girl and they’re falling all over themselves to talk to you. That girl,” He raises his hands and does air quotes, “Scundered herself to talk to you, mate.”

“It took me, like, two years to find out what scundered meant,” Zayn says, “Was too embarrassed to ask, like. Which is ironic, because it means embarrassed.”

“Fascinating,” Louis says, dryly. He leans forwards onto his elbows, steepling his fingers together, like he’s Mr Burns from The Simpsons. Zayn shakes his head at him, “How _did_ you find out what it meant?”

“Asked Niall one day, only he didn’t know either. So, like, he just walked up to some random girl and asked her. She told him. Then he got all embarrassed. Was quite funny, actually. S’like, another language, or summat. Don’t have colloquialisms like that back in Yorkshire, bro.”

“I know, mate. I’m from Yorkshire too. And check you, _colloquialisms._ I’m way too hungover for words that long. You’d almost think that you’re an English student, or something.”

“Imagine,” Zayn says. He puts his arms on top of the bench and grins at Louis lazily. “Anyway, I dunno how I do it. They just like me, or summat. Stupid, ‘cause I barely said three words to her. You’ve got all the natural charm.”

“Yeah,” Louis scoffs, “I’ve got all the natural charm, and you got Perrie to agree to sleep with you.”

Zayn chokes on air.

“ _What,_ ” He hisses, “How the fuck do you even know that?”

Louis opens his mouth, but is interrupted by the return of the waitress, who, Zayn notes, is wearing a name badge that reads, ‘Aofie.’

“Everything alright, here? I’ve got your milkshakes.” She places them down on the table in front of them, sending an extra smile Zayn’s way, before walking away again.

Louis takes a sip of his milkshake, grinning at Zayn over the rim of the glass.

“I’m serious,” Zayn says, “How do you know? Like, what gave us away?”

Louis sighs, putting his milkshake down and clasping a dramatic hand to his heart, twisting sideways in the seat so that he can swoon to full effect. His head over one arm, legs draped over the other, “I know you, Zayn. Whatever souls are made of, yours and mine are the same. Don’t you see?”

Zayn looks at him, unimpressed, “Are you quoting Wuthering fucking Heights at me?”

“Zayn, you’re more myself than I am!” Louis cries, the waitress turns to stare at them. So do the couple. The old man seems pretty content with his newspaper.

“I’m going to leave if you don’t answer me properly.”

“ _Please_ , Zayn,” Louis says, “I’m not kidding, I know you. You and Perrie in the kitchen were more obvious than the time Liam’s mum called him when he was drunk. That was a mess all round.”

“We’re not that bad.”

Louis doesn’t look convinced, “You’re pretty bad, mate. Anyway, it’s okay, Harry doesn’t know, he’s shit at picking up on things like that. Didn’t realise Ed and Ellie were together until he walked in on them shagging.”

“Christ,” Zayn says, “How could you _not_ pick up on that?”

Louis shrugs, “Dunno, but, my point still stands. You’re alright for the minute,” Louis knocks his foot against Zayn’s, smiling, “Just me that knows. No house fights imminent.”

“Just you and Niall.”

Louis looks startled, leaning forwards in his seat, “Niall knows?”

“Yeah?” Zayn asks, “He mentioned it this morning. Said Perrie told him, or summat. He was pretty hanging though, didn’t wanna press him too much. Not really bothered he knows, like. He’s my best mate, I probably would have told him anyway.”

“Did he seem okay?”

Zayn blinks, surprised. If Louis wasn’t even going to react about Zayn naming someone other than hhim his best mate - he was suspicious. Normally he wouldn’t shut up if Zayn said something like that, “Why wouldn’t he be okay? It’s Niall, I don’t think he’s ever not, like. Okay.”

Louis sighs, “Yeah, alright, whatever you say.” He pulls his mobile out of his pocket, glances at the time, “C’mon, Zayners, gotta get to that reptile shop and all, before your lizard wastes away. Or you get separation anxiety from your _best mate._ ”

Zayn relaxes a little. If Louis’ griping at him again, then things can’t be too bad.  

“Jealous, Lou?” Zayn asks, taking another large drink of his milkshake. Now that it’s in front of him, he wants it a lot more than he initially thought he would. He smiles at Louis over the rim of the glass, and Louis glares at him.

“Yeah, that’s what the issue is here, mate. I’m jealous of what you and Niall have. You know, man, I sit up every night, crying into Harry’s shoulder about how you love Niall Horan more than me. I have nightmares about it.”

“It’s the eyes, man.” Zayn says, standing up and brushing down his jeans. Louis looks at him, still in his seat, his unfinished milkshake still in his hand. He looks highly unimpressed.

“I have eyes, Malik! In no world do I not have eyes!”

“I never said you didn’t, bro,” Zayn is largely uninterested in Louis’ dramatics, right now. He’s in the process of trying to finish his milkshake and locate his packet of cigarettes all in one go, “Your eyes just aren’t as pretty as Niall’s.”

This, if anything, serves to make Louis look even more unimpressed than he already did. Zayn tucks his cigarette behind his ear and raises his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Louis says, “Just, y’know, what do you think of Perrie’s eyes?”  

Zayn puts his, now empty, glass down on the table and kicks at Louis’ shin, lightly, trying to get him to move. Louis doesn’t budge, still looking at Zayn curiously, not that Zayn understands why. He doesn’t see why his opinion on Perrie’s eyes could be this important, but Louis seems to think it is.

“I dunno, they’re nice. Proper blue, innit? I like blue eyes.”

“Clearly,” Louis says, and Zayn winks.

“C’mon, Louis. I’ll pay for the next one if it gets you to move quicker.”

Louis puts a hand to his chest, “Be still,” He says, lifting his cup and taking another drink, increasingly slowly, “My beating heart.”

“Sometimes I think you were brought into my life just to annoy me,” Zayn says, leaning over Louis’ chair so that his face is pressed into the top of Louis’ head. Louis sighs, heavily, twists his head up to stare at Zayn,

“You’re one to talk.”

“You love me.”

“I question it, sometimes, to be honest, Zayners. You’re a bit of a twat sometimes.”

Zayn laughs, ruffles his hand through Louis’ hair and says, “Finish your fucking milkshake, I’m going out for a smoke.”

Louis gives him the finger on the way out.

*

Outside Maggie Mays, it’s starting to get colder. Zayn lights his cigarette, sitting on one of the rickety outdoor tables, feet on a chair. Some girl from his creative writing lectures fumbles past, gives him a vague wave as she does so. He waves back.

Bored, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, stares at it for a few moments. He doesn’t have enough money to afford any decent amount of 3G, and he looks at it blankly, trying to remember what purpose phones had before internet.

He texts Niall;

**louis is worried abt u. thinks ur mad that i’m shagging perrie? or tht u wont be ok or smth ? told him he was jel ! xx**

Niall texts back almost instantly, and Zayn jumps at the sound. He honestly wasn’t expecting a reply; if he had been in the state Niall was when Zayn left, he wouldn’t resurface for a month.

**ofc i’m jel, zaynie baby ! ur clearly not good enough for perrie… i could treat her right… xx**

Zayn laughs, exhaling his cigarette smoke in a stream. Firing off another quick text he says,

**haha ! :) louis forced me in2 maggie mays for milkshake. we had a v interesting convo abt ur eyes, louis was upset i think that yours are the nicest of evry1 babe xxxxx**

When Niall replies, it’s just a selfie, with five kisses as the caption. The sheets of Zayn’s bed are pulled up around his head, and all you can see are his eyes. Zayn looks at it for a few moments, saving it to his phone and smiling. He’s about to reply, when Louis barrels out of the café, stealing his cigarette out of his hand.

“Oi,” Zayn says, “You already owe me cigarettes.”

“Stop being so tight,” Louis tells him, purposefully exhaling in his face. Zayn wrinkles his nose.

“M’not being tight, cigarettes are fucking expensive, mate. Worst habit I ever picked up, I can’t afford this shit.”

Louis says nothing, just raises his eyebrows and takes another drag. He then bumps his hip against Zayn and starts to walk in the direction of the reptile shop, eyebrows raised. Zayn pauses – then follows after, sighing as he pulls out another cigarette from the packet.

Louis winks at him, the dick.

The walk to the reptile shop is short, and Louis spends most of it trying to steal Zayn’s second cigarette off him, “Piss off,” Zayn swats at Louis’ hand, “You’ve already nicked one, eh? That’s enough lad.”

“Would you give another to Niall?”

Zayn scowls, “I don’t know what’s with you today, like. M’not answering that, because it’s irrelevant. Think you’re a bit obsessed with Niall, mate. Anyway, Niall’s quit smoking, innit? Piss off, Lou.”

Louis cackles, half walking, half dancing down the small side street that takes them to the reptile shop. Zayn doesn’t even look at him, just drops the butt of his cigarette in the gutter, and pushes his way in.

The door to the reptile shop creaks open loudly. Inside, it smells like a mixture of earth and shit, and the only people in there are a teenage girl who’s staring at the tarantulas transfixed - and a guy with dreadlocks behind the counter who looks half asleep.

Louis follows behind Zayn, looking at all the tanks and wrinkling his nose, “Why couldn’t you own, like, a dog? Or a cat?”

“Jesy’s allergic to their hair, you know that, mate. Anyway, Arnie is adorable, fuck you.”

“He doesn’t do anything. Look around, none of these animals are moving, Zayn.”

As if on cue, a snake raises its head and hits it against the glass. Louis jumps, hand clinging to Zayn’s sleeve. Zayn raises his eyebrows, “Y’alright there, Lou?”

“Fuck you,” Louis says, side eyeing the boxes of crickets piled up, “I’m going on; I’ve got stuff I need to pick up that’s not from this monstrosity of a shop.”

“Alright man.”

Louis kisses Zayn quickly on the cheek, before hightailing it out of the shop. Zayn laughs at his retreating back, before turning to the man behind the counter.

*

When Zayn gets back to the house, armed with lizard food and Niall food, Liam is up.

Well, Liam is as up as Liam is likely to get, today. He’s lying on the sofa in the living room, head on Jesy’s lap, feet in Leigh-Anne’s. Iron Man is playing on low volume from a laptop, and Liam looks utterly miserable. The picture of a broken man.

“Hey, Zayn,” Jesy says, waving. Liam vaguely turns his head, sees Zayn’s bag, and lights up.

“D’you have Boojum?” He asks, and Zayn shifts, awkwardly.

“Sorry, bro, s’for Niall. He asked first.”

Liam puts his hands over his face, groans lowly, “Niall doesn’t need it like I do. This is the worst day ever.”

Jesy pats his head sympathetically. Leigh-Anne snorts, “We’ll order a pizza or summat later, babe. Chill out.”

“Yeah, babe, s’not your fault that Zayn loves Niall more than you,” Jesy continues, hand still on Liam’s head.

“I’ve long since given up being sad about that, Jesy. Zayn loves Niall more than anyone.”

“You’re so funny” Zayn says, dryly, “D’you know where Niall is, anyway?”

“Still in your room, I assume,” Leigh-Anne says, “At least, that’s where Ari said he was when she left, which was like, ten minutes ago.”

“Thanks,” Zayn tells them, already backing out of the room and up the stairs. Liam just groans.

In Zayn’s room, Niall is awake. He’s still in the bed, hair mussed from the pillow, but he’s kicked his jeans off, opened Zayn’s curtains, and is talking to someone on FaceTime when Zayn walks in.

“Who you talking to, babe?” He asks, and Niall turns to look at him, sees the bag of food, and lights up,

“Talking to the good ‘aul Bobby Horan,” Niall says, swinging the phone around, “Look, Zayn brought me food, da! You seeing this?”

Zayn shuffles onto bed beside Niall, leaning against him and lifting an awkward hand, “Alright, sir?” He says, and Bobby snorts.

“Jesus, don’t call me sir, Zayn. You’ve known me long enough, now. It’s good to see you! You coming down to visit, soon? Me and Niall are going down together to see the rugby in a couple of weeks, in Dublin, you know? Got a spare ticket, ‘cause my friend was supposed to come with, only he’s had to pull out. His lad’s bringing the wee ones over that weekend for a visit.”

“Oh yeah,” Niall says, grinning, “I almost forgot about that. You wanna come, Zayno?”

Zayn freezes, trying to think of what to say.

On the one hand, there is nothing he hates more than sitting in some stadium for a number of hours, trying to pretend like he’s interested in whatever sport is going on in front of him. The seats are freezing, it’s normally raining, and the food is always terrible and ridiculously overpriced.

On the other hand, Zayn is nothing if not terrible at saying no to the Horan’s. That, coupled with the fact that he knows how much sports games mean to Niall. Really, it was never a question at all, seeing the look on Niall’s face as soon as his dad mentioned it.

“Sure,” Zayn says, “Sounds great.”

“Sick!” Niall says, kissing Zayn on the cheek, “Anyway, dad, m’gonna go, gotta eat this food before it gets cold.”

“Alright,” Bobby says, “Call me soon, y’hear?”

“Of course, dad! Bye, love you!” Niall kisses his hand and touches it to the screen. Bobby smiles, and does the same. Zayn lifts his own hand in an awkward kind of wave,

“Bye, Bobby.”

“See you boys, be good!”

He hangs up, and Niall smiles, makes grabby hands towards the Boojum bag, “You’re amazing.” He says, “My complete and utter hero. Also, you can make up an excuse about the rugby if you want, I know that you don’t give a shit, like. Dad won’t be mad.”

“I’m not going to let your dad down, Niall, I’ve committed, innit?” Zayn passes Niall the bag, and Niall grins, leans his head on Zayn’s shoulder. “Besides, how could I pass up the opportunity for a weekend with you in your natural habitat?”

“You’re the best,” He says, opening it and pulling out one of the burrito bowls within, “Especially because you bought me food.”

“I can’t believe that you feel up for eating, state you were in this morning.”

Niall shoots him a look, “I don’t, really, but you paid for it, who am I to turn down free food? Not to mention that it’s a Boojum. I’m hardly going to turn that down, like. Also, if I’m going to vomit at any point today, it would be better to do it on a full stomach.”

“I really don’t think that vomiting up a Boojum is the best way to go, mate. Remember that time Louis vommed? It looked like a cat sick. Smelled terrible, too.”

Niall sticks his tongue out, “Still better than me vomiting up nothing but water, like.”

Zayn pulls a face, “This whole conversation is disgusting.”

“But true,” Niall doesn’t seem bothered at all, still peering in the bags, “Look at this, even brought me a plastic fork so I don’t have to go downstairs!” Niall flutters his eyelashes, “You’re a man after my own heart, Zayn Malik.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zayn says, shoving Niall in the shoulder, lightly. Niall laughs, opening his plastic container of food and digging in.

“How was yours and Louis’ excursion to town, then?”

“Yeah, alright. Dragged me to Maggie Mays, and he knows about Perrie, was proper grilling me on it, like.”

Niall laughs, “I know, you texted me all of that. Anyway, he only knows because you’re a rubbish liar, Malik. What did you do, look at her and he figured you out?”

Zayn gives him the finger, “Fuck off, Niall. It’s not like you’re so mysterious.”

Niall looks wounded, “I have secrets!”

“I’m sure.”

“No, I do! I have internal pain and hidden depths you could never touch on, Zaynie baby. You hurt me to imply otherwise.” He shoves a piece of chicken in his mouth shortly after speaking. Looking up at Zayn with hurt eyes. Zayn snorts,

“Yeah, your pain is deep and hidden.”

“I’m glad you agree,” Niall says, talking around his next mouthful of food. Zayn watches him, half out of disgust, half out of morbid curiosity.

“You’re grim, Nialler.”

“Not as grim as Perrie’s avid description of your sex life, last night. Speaking of, how did that even come about?”

“Why, was Louis right? Are you jealous, Mr Horan? Of me?”

Niall laughs, shovels some more food into his mouth. Zayn has moved under the covers beside him, and Niall is pressed tightly against the whole side of his body. It’s nice, comfortable. Zayn almost feels sleepy, now, warm in his bed beside Niall.

“Course I’m jealous of you, you’re fit as fuck mate. Look at those cheekbones! And your eyelashes. Got the birds falling at your feet, babe,” Niall says, pressing an obnoxiously loud and smacking kiss to Zayn’s cheek, right on the bone. “Nah, but seriously, I’m just curious. Like, how did it come about?”

“Dunno,” Zayn wipes at where Niall just kissed, absentmindedly taking another mouthful of food, “Just happened, like. We were the only ones in the house, and we were bored, and. I don’t know, man. One thing led to another, and, like, I guess it’s a thing, now. She’s just, it’s Perrie, like. She’s fit. It’s fun.”

“D’you fancy her, then?” Niall says, turning to Zayn. Zayn stares at him.

“I’m shagging her!”

Niall shrugs, “Doesn’t mean shit, I’ve slept with people I didn’t fancy that much, just because it was a bit of good craic. A nice time, like. I’m asking you if you properly like her, Malik. I know you, you’re the wining and dining sort.”

Zayn thinks about this. Perrie is funny, and pretty, and they get on better than most people do. Better than he does with any of the other girls they live with, at least.

“Yeah, I guess so. She’s, I don’t know. She’s Perrie, like. She’s amazing, you know?” He says it slowly, trying to get the words out right. Niall doesn’t smile at this, doesn’t even say anything, and Zayn looks at him, curiously.

“So, you do, then? Fancy her, like?”

Zayn shrugs, uncomfortable. He doesn’t know how he feels about Perrie, at least, not as more than a good friend. He doesn’t see why he should have to know, why Louis and Niall are both so interested in finding out. It’s not supposed to be something serious, between them. Didn’t start as that. It’s just good fun between friends.

“Fair enough,” Niall says, after a few moments have awkwardly passed, “You don’t have to tell me, then.” He sounds hurt, and Zayn looks at him. Only, as soon as he does, Niall smiles again, pokes him in the cheek, fondly. Zayn laughs, runs a hand through his hair, messing it up and then flattening it down again.

“You wanna go for a walk with me, later?” He asks, turning to Niall, “I’ve got some grass, like, tucked away. Didn’t smoke it last night, so.”

“On a _Sunday_?” Niall waggles his eyebrows, “Look at you, mister rebel. What about your lecture tomorrow?”

Zayn shrugs, “Doesn’t matter. It’s not ‘til half twelve, like. Think even I’ll be able to make it. Anyway, you’re off tomorrow, so it’s not like it affects you.”

“Three day weekend,” Niall says, happily. “Best course choice I ever made. I love past me for thinking of my delicate needs. I am so clever, so intelligent. I know myself so well.”

“You mean, you know how bad you get when you’re hungover.”

Niall grins, teeth on show, head on Zayn’s shoulder, “Pretty much, yeah. I’m a delicate tulip at heart, Zayn, you know this.”

“Thought you were a proud Irish man?” Zayn asks, and Niall moves away from him to put his now empty burrito bowl on the floor. He looks back up at Zayn and smiles.

“Personalities are flexible, babe. It’s twenty-fifteen. Sexuality is fluid, gender is a social construct, I am both a delicate flower and an Irish warrior.”

Zayn looks at him, trying not to smile. He fails, horribly. There are only a few short seconds before he’s bursting into laughter and shoving Niall on the shoulder again, “Of course you are.” He says. Niall beams at him.

“Of course I am,” He agrees, easily, “Also, d’you mind if I stay in here? M’still wrecked, like. Didn’t get much sleep when you were out. Then da called, so I had to take that. Not that I was sleeping much anyway, I mean. I was in jeans, so I kept waking up.”

“Is that why you’re in just your boxers in my bed, then?” Zayn says. Niall winks at him. Zayn will never get over how he manages to be half obnoxiously charming, half just flat out obnoxious.

“That, and I know how much you love it.”

“Ah, yeah. I almost forgot, but thank god you reminded me. Imagine if I went too long without your chicken legs in my life, like. Dunno what I’d do.”

Niall doesn’t reply immediately; too busy shuffling further down the bed. Moving so that he’s not sitting up anymore, but instead, lying down, head on Zayn’s lap.

“If I fall asleep, now, will you bitch at me later about how uncomfortable you were?” He asks, and Zayn shuffles around a little, checks that he’s still got a couple of books stacked on his bedside cabinet, his phone within reach.

“Nah,” He says, “You’re alright.”

“Cool,” Niall says, eyes already shut. His hands are curled into a loose fist on Zayn’s jumper, and Zayn looks at him, fondly. Shoving his half full container of food onto the cabinet beside him, and picking up a book. He has every intention to read it, really. He’s been curious about it ever since Harry shoved it in his hands a couple of weeks ago and was blurting out stuff about it being a, “literary work of genius,” and, “inspiration for the first Panic! At the Disco album.”

Zayn gets one page in before he’s drifting off to sleep, too.

*

When he wakes up, there’s a crick in his neck, and Niall is snoring. Slowly, Zayn shifts, moving away from Niall and his bed. Checking the time on the clock beside him, he’s happy when he sees that it’s still only half two in the afternoon. His nap lasted just over an hour, which is a decent amount of time. He hates sleeping through the whole day, especially now it’s been getting dark so early.

Wandering back downstairs, he passes the living room, where Leigh, Jesy and Liam are still gathered. There’s a different movie from before now playing on the computer. They probably didn’t make it to the end of the first one.

“Y’alright, bro?” Liam says. He doesn’t look much more together, but he has moved from lying down to sitting up. Zayn nods.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a nap, you know.”

Liam nods, seriously, “I do know. I didn’t see any of the last film.”

“Fell asleep right after you went upstairs,” Leigh cuts in, “Bless. Would have been cute if he didn’t snore so loudly.”

“I’m very sorry,” Liam says.

“Shh,” Jesy says, hitting him in the leg. Liam winces, and they all shut up after that.

Zayn stays, awkwardly perched on the arm of the chair for a few minutes, they’re still watching Iron Man, only now it’s the third one. The quality is terrible, because Liam downloaded it from some crap torrent and was too lazy to do it again. Zayn tries to focus, but he feels keyed up, wired. He gives up after a few minutes, sighing.

“M’gonna put the kettle on, do you want a cup?” He asks, Jesy nods.

“Yeah, tea for me babe.”

Leigh and Liam both turn him down, and he pushes his way through to the kitchen.

The kitchen is slightly less disgusting, now. All of the beer cans have been chucked out, and the trails of tobacco and grass have been swept off the counters. There’s still heaps of dirty dishes by the side of the sink, and Zayn wrinkles his nose at them, but leaves it. Niall will probably clean them at some point tomorrow, he can’t cope with the mess, and he’s off all day.

Perrie is sitting on the armchair by the kitchen table, papers splayed out around her in an order that probably only she can understand. The armchair was the result of Harry, he’d dragged it into the kitchen months ago, claiming that he did too much work at their table to be sitting so uncomfortably. It was actually one of Harry’s better plans, and so it’s stayed, despite the fact that with it, and the sofa, there’s barely any room to move through the rest of the room.

Perrie looks up when she hears Zayn enter. She’s got a pair of glasses perched on her nose, and her hair has been let down, hanging loosely around her shoulders. She grins at Zayn, and he smiles back, leaning against the counter and watching her as she bends down to read something else on the page.

She’s gorgeous. There’s no denying how pretty she is. When Danny and Ant had come over to visit, they’d spent the whole time passing comment on how Zayn had managed to convince so many hot girls to join his social circle. Zayn had shrugged it off, said it was all Liam and Niall, really. They were the ones with charm, not him.

Still, it seems that he’s got enough charm to convince Perrie to sleep with him. Enough charm to get her to smile at him like that, and he doesn’t know how it happened, how it all came about. Doesn’t remember much about the first night, was telling the truth when he told Niall that it was just a drunken snog that went further.

He doesn’t know how he feels about the whole thing, really. Still doesn’t. He has trouble reconciling the Perrie in front of him, the Perrie that’s a good mate and owns more than one onesie, with the Perrie he’s sleeping with. Has trouble explaining that he doesn’t fancy Perrie, but he doesn’t not, either.

Perrie looks up again, smiling, “You’re staring.” She says.

“I’m not.”

“You are,” She sticks her tongue out at him. “The kettle finished boiling, like, ten minutes ago.”

Zayn blinks, turns around, and flicks it on to boil again. Liam hates it when he does that, gave him a big lecture on wasting electricity, but Zayn is always worried that the water won’t be hot enough if he doesn’t re-boil it. It’s a bad habit he can’t quite shake.

“Was just thinking,” He says, and she looks at him curiously. Her head tips to the side like she’s a dog.

“Yeah? Thinking about me?”

Zayn grins, presses his tongue to his teeth, leans back against the counter in a way that he knows is attractive. The way he knows works, because Niall always rolls his eyes at him when he does it in the club, tells him off for being, “Too fit,” and that Niall will, “Never get a pull with that around.”

Perrie doesn’t seem to be affected by it. Zayn’s not sure if it’s because she’s seen him at his most hungover and disgusting, or if it’s just because she’s more out of his league than anyone he’s pulled before. Probably a combination of the two.

She raises her eyebrows at him, “Well? Were you?”

“Maybe,” Zayn replies, grin still firmly in place. Perrie stands, walks closer to him, until she’s got Zayn pressed against the counter. Her hands come up to the dead centre of his chest, right over his heart.

“I think you were,” She says, pushing her face close to his. Her mouth is so close that Zayn would only have to move the smallest fraction to kiss her. He stands there, suspended.

He could kiss her, and it would be nice. Good, even. He could kiss her, and they would both enjoy it.

They haven’t kissed yet, not properly. Not without the promise of it leading somewhere else. So far, most of their kisses have been nothing but friendly pecks on the cheek from before they even started shagging, and those don’t really count. Especially not with a friendship group like theirs.

Zayn could kiss her now. He could lean down and kiss her – easy as anything. He wonders if there’s something wrong with him that he doesn’t really want to. He doesn’t want to turn this thing into something more than it is. He loves Perrie, but he doesn’t know if he _wants_ her. Not in the proper way. He doesn’t want her in the, ‘take her home’ kind of way. Not in the, ‘tattoo her on his skin’ kind of way. Not in the, ‘come with me to meet my mum and dad’ kind of way.

Instead, he laughs, touches his lips quickly to the corner of her mouth, moves his head away from her. She smiles, too, like it doesn’t bother her at all. Dances away from him and curls back up into the armchair.

“You ever gonna make that tea, Malik?” She asks, grinning.

Zayn gives her the finger, turns around, and brews the tea.

*

“Where the fuck are we going, Zayn? It’s like, two in the morning,” Niall says, pulls the sleeves of his hoodie down so that they cover his hands. He’s scowling, looks petulant and adorable. Zayn laughs when he turns around to wait for him.

It’s a relatively mild night. There’s a breeze, and the air is crisp, but the moon is clear over the apartments on the other side of the river Lagan. It’s been dry lately, too. The river sitting lower than usual, grass on the side of the bank more visible. Zayn waits for Niall to catch up with him, standing, feet pressed into the slots of the metal railing that blocks access to the slope beside the water. Stops people from falling in.

Niall comes to stand beside him, and Zayn looks at him for a moment, then at the leaf covered bank on the other side of the railing. It’s a pretty steep slope, overgrown, too, but the part that Zayn’s stopped at is flatter and clearer than most. He grins, and jumps the fence.

“ _Zayn_ ,” Niall hisses, he looks up and down the length road, as if he’s expecting someone to appear and arrest Zayn instantly. There’s no one around, and even if there were, Zayn can’t imagine anyone jumping down his throat for smoking a joint. The other day, Zayn watched a policeman stop two teenagers get caught with some weed, and then proceed to smoke up with them.

Zayn tells Niall this, but it doesn’t erase Niall’s frown. Zayn doesn’t know what he’s so scared of happening. It’s a Sunday night, most people are at home, asleep at this hour. Even the Ormeau Road - just up from where Zayn and Niall are - is pretty dead. Nothing but a sporadic car driving past.

“What?” Zayn asks, he smiles, dropping his backpack and pulling a blanket out, “It’s dry, Niall, c’mon.” He spreads the blanket on the ground, plonks himself down on it. The Lagan, the river, at night is one of the prettiest things about Belfast. Purple and blue lights under the bridge nearby reflecting on the water. The water itself black and still.

Zayn’s tried to take photos of it, before, to send to his mum and dad - but they never come out right. It’s not just the way it looks, Zayn thinks. It’s the way you feel, sitting there. It doesn’t feel like you’re sitting in the centre of the city, not really.

Niall pauses for a moment longer, clearly conflicted. Zayn just looks at him, waiting for the moment Niall scowls at Zayn and jumps over the fence. He stumbles a little, foot slipping on the leaves that have gathered, and Zayn swallows, reaches out a hand to touch his ankle.

“Fuck you,” Niall says, sitting down on the blanket, with a thump, “I hope you slip and fall in the river.”

“No you don’t,” Zayn says, “I can’t swim.”

“Don’t think you need to be able to swim, mate. There are more shopping trolleys in that river than there are rocks at this point. Just use them as your stepping stones.”

Zayn laughs, softly. Then sighs, leaning against Niall and pulling his grinder out of his bag. Niall looks at it, raises his eyebrows at him.

“What I really love about you,” Niall says, waving a hand at the grinder, “Is your subtlety.”

Zayn winks; his grinder is gold metal, with a massive white marijuana leaf on it. It’s utterly hideous, but it cost three quid on Amazon, and Zayn doesn’t have the kind of money to be picky about stuff like that.

“You knew what you were agreeing to when you came on a walk with me.”

“I did. I’m just thinking, Malik, blanket down by the river and the last of your weed. This is almost romantic.”

Zayn flutters his eyelashes at Niall, one hand cupped around the joint he’s trying to roll on his knee, blocking the wind from blowing any of the tobacco away.

“You caught me out.” He says, and Niall smiles. His feet are pointing at the river, and he lies back on the blanket, so that he’s propped up only on his elbows.

“You’re gonna have to be up in a few hours, mate, even if your lecture is at twelve. You know that, right?”

Zayn wrinkles his nose, “I haven’t missed a lecture yet this year, if I miss tomorrow it’ll be alright.”

“Third year, man, s’important.”

“So’s this,” Zayn replies, knocking his knee against Niall’s. Niall grins, and Zayn flicks his eyes back to the joint. He doesn’t know what it is, but out here, with nothing but the orange from the streetlamps and the purple from the river lights, Niall looks different. Lazily attractive, the kind of person that you would let yourself _be_ something with.

Zayn rolls the joint, licks along the end to seal it, twists it at the top and with a flourish drops into Niall’s lap. He grins, happily.

“There y’are. That one’s for you.”

Niall looks at it for a moment, before sitting up. He shuffles a little, sliding a neon pink clipper out of his pocket. Joint in his mouth, he looks over to Zayn and smirks.

“See, anyone else would think you’re being generous there. I know you though, babe. You just can’t share things. Wanted a full joint just for yourself.”

Zayn doesn’t deny it, but he does bump his shoulder against Niall again. Softly. Niall laughs properly then, head thrown back and teeth clamping around the roach, holding the joint in place. Zayn looks at him, fondly, at the way Niall lights up and breathes in deep. He exhales out of his nose, joint still in his mouth, and Zayn wrinkles his nose at him.

“Dunno how you do that, bro.”

Niall raises his eyebrows, “Clearly, you’re just not as experienced as me.”

It’s such a stupid lie that they both look at each other, holding the gaze for a few seconds. Zayn is the first to break, looking away in amusement. When Niall laughs, a cloud of smoke puffs out of his mouth.

Zayn finishes rolling his own joint, holds it in his hands. Niall takes another toke, holding the smoke in for longer than Zayn ever does. Zayn watches him silently for a moment, before he says, “C’mere,” and pulls Niall to him. He uses the lit end of Niall’s joint to light his own, breathing in deep and raising his eyebrows at Niall’s amused expression.

“Could have asked for the lighter, man, it’s on the fuckin’ blanket.”

“Thought you wanted me to be romantic, like?”

Niall’s head jerks a little, and he cackles again. Takes another drag. Kicks his feet out, “Dick,” He says, but it’s fond, “I can’t believe you’ve got me smoking weed beside the river. Such a bad influence on me.”

“They do call me the Bradford bad boy.”

Niall shakes his head, jabs Zayn in the side quickly. It’s the kind of sneak attack that only comes as a learned thing, from being the younger sibling, probably. Zayn jerks away from it, hissing in pain, and Niall grins, exhales his smoke directly in Zayn’s face.

Sometimes Zayn forgets that Niall is the youngest bar Harry - then he pulls shit like this.

“Doesn’t count as a nickname if it’s only you using it, Zayners.”

Zayn doesn’t reply, just takes another hit. He packed the joints out, proper, and rolled them in king skins too. All in all, he was less stingy with it than he normally is, and it’s starting to get to him a little. The world around the two of them is slowing down, his head starting to feel heavy. He can tell Niall’s feeling it too, from the way he’s dropped onto his back. There’s a lazy smile on his face, the hand that isn’t holding the joint resting on his stomach. He’s tapping his fingers, idly.

“What you thinking about?” Zayn asks him, and Niall turns his head.

“Good Kisser,” Zayn stares at him for a couple of seconds, and Niall laughs. “Y’know, the Usher song? Liam was playing it earlier, I think. S’been stuck in my head.”

“Good song,” Zayn says, and Niall laughs, even though Zayn isn’t trying to be funny.

“I fucked someone to it, once,” He says, wrinkles his nose, takes another drag. “I didn’t pick it, she put it on. The playlist was all Usher and The Weeknd. Think it’s a bit obvious, innit?”

“What does it matter if you’re being obvious?” Zayn laughs, shaking his head. “Surely the fact your _dick_ is in them makes it obvious?”

“Zayn’s getting defensive,” Niall says, his eyes are barely open, and Zayn looks to his hand, notes that he’s burned his way through well over half off the joint. “How many Usher and Weeknd songs are on your playlist, then?”

“No comment.”

Niall laughs, eyes crinkling even further closed. “How many times you fucked Perrie to The Weeknd?”

Zayn shoves him, and Niall cracks up, curling in on himself, before looking up at Zayn through his eyelashes, “Take it that’s too many times to name, then?”

“Don’t wanna talk about Perrie,” Zayn says, instead. “She’s not here, is she? You’re the one I asked to come, like.”

Niall softens, then. His eyes and mouth settling - and he looks at Zayn for what feels like a long time. Then again, time is passing slower, now, Zayn’s body moving a few seconds behind his brain. He lies back, pats Niall on the arm, softly, then tangles their fingers together.

Niall squeezes his hand tight, lies back beside him. He throws the roach of the, now dead, joint into the river.

“That’s littering,” Zayn says, and Niall kisses him on the cheek.

“You’re litter.” He says. Zayn doesn’t know what he means, but he laughs anyway, holds Niall’s hand a little tighter. Lies there a little longer.

*

Zayn is tired. It’s been a shitty day. Shitty week, really. His lectures haven’t been making sense, he’s got a paper he’s been putting off for a month to write, and he hasn’t seen Niall in three days.

Well, he’s seen Niall briefly - before Niall’s running out the door to a lecture, or before one of them goes to sleep. Nothing more than a quick, “Hello” as they pass each other in the corridor. A quick sideways hug or kiss to the cheek before they both have to be elsewhere.

He slumps down at the kitchen table the second he can, sinking into the armchair and sighing heavily. Liam’s sitting on the counter, Harry at the table. When Zayn had walked in, they’d been involved in some petty argument, but as soon as they catch sight of him they both stop and turn to look at him.

“Tough day, mate?” Liam asks, kicking his feet lazily against one of the cupboards. He’s eating dry Cheerios directly out of the box. When Zayn waves his hand in a silent question at him, he just shrugs, looking unconcerned.

“No milk, innit? Louis finished it. Jesy said she was gonna pick some up for us.”

“Oh,” Zayn says. He’s pretty sure he was supposed to be the one buying milk, this week. He sighs, then rubs his temple. “Sorry, just. S’been a tough week. Haven’t seen Niall much, either.”

“Yeah, he was complaining about that earlier,” Harry says. “You two have some codependency you might want to work on.”

Liam snorts, “You can’t talk, bro, Louis called me crying once because he hadn’t seen you in two days.”

“Was he drunk?” Zayn asks.

Liam’s face darkens slightly, and he shakes his head, “Mate, I _wish_.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, but he does look vaguely smug. It’s a testament to how tired Zayn is that he doesn’t even call Harry out on his blatant hypocrisy. Instead, he just drops his head down to the table and makes a low whining noise.

“There, there, now. Just relax,” Harry says, patting him in between his shoulder blades. “You’ve been out of the house for almost nine hours, now.”

“Would that happen to be a Back to the Future quote, Harry?” Zayn says. “You calling yourself my mum?” He doesn’t move away from Harry’s hand.

“Can’t judge me for it, Zayn. You got that rather obscure reference. Anyway, it’s okay, I’m sure Niall hasn’t forgotten about you.”

“Forgotten about who?” Niall’s voice cuts in, and, from where his face is still shoved into the wood of the table, Zayn can hear someone coming into the kitchen. He looks up, hopefully, and catches sight of Niall leaning easily against Liam. His nose is red from the cold, and his guitar is slung over his shoulder in its case. He’s got Zayn’s coat on, and Zayn starts smiling without even having to think about it.

“Speak of the devil,” Liam says, putting his chin on the top of Niall’s head. “Zayn’s worried you’ve forgotten about him.”

“I never said that,” Zayn tells Niall. Niall nods, seriously, but there’s a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

“Uh huh, of course not.”

“I _didn’t_.”

“He did,” Liam says.

“It’s alright, Niall can’t judge you. I have, like, seventy texts with increasing frowny faces to prove that he, too, felt your absence.”

Niall scowls and he points a finger at Harry, “I sent you those in confidence.”

Harry puts a hand to his heart, “No you didn’t! Nowhere did you say in confidence. I know, I checked. I would never betray you like that, Niall.”

“It was heavily implied. I used the emoji with the white thing over its mouth.”

“You know that’s supposed to be a sick emoji?” Zayn asks.

Harry nods, “Yeah, Niall, I thought you were just telling me that you were sick of life without Zayn.”

Niall rolls his eyes, but he does move away from Liam over to where Zayn is sitting. He takes the seat beside him, dragging it even closer so he can put his head on Zayn’s shoulder. Zayn wraps an arm around him, pulls him in close while Harry smirks at the two of them. Liam doesn’t say anything; too busy squinting at his phone.

“Why did you send that emoji, when there’s actually one with a zip for a mouth?” He asks, looking up at Niall. Niall gives him a dirty look.

“Fuck off, Payne.”

“No, seriously, Niall. Did you even look? Were you really just sick of life without Zayn? How many Smiths songs did you play on your guitar today? Be honest, bro.”

Niall shoves his face into Zayn’s neck and lifts his middle finger, waving it around the room. Zayn laughs, easily, says, “Missed you,” into Niall’s hair. He feels, rather than sees, Niall’s answering grin.

“It’s fine, Niall,” Harry says, “Liam and I are leaving anyway.”

“We are?” Liam asks, and Harry nods.

“Yeah, I promised Louis that I’d pick him up from his shift, today. Also, I need to go to Established Coffee to leave in my CV, I really need a job, man.”

Liam stares at him, “That has absolutely nothing to do with me.”

“It has everything to do with you. You’re friends with Leigh and Jade, and Leigh and Jade have a car.”

Liam sighs, but doesn’t protest anymore. He just pushes himself off the counter, follows Harry into the hall.

“See you later!” Niall calls. He doesn’t move from where he’s sitting against Zayn, and Zayn relaxes back into his chair. It’s nice, really, to be alone with Niall, again. It’s been too long. “I saw something that made me think of you today.”

Zayn tangles his fingers in Niall’s hand, “Oh?” He says, playing with Niall’s fingers.

“Yeah, me and Ari were in town, right? Going around all the galleries. Something for her art, I don’t know. Anyway, we were in Golden Threads, and they’ve got this thing up, right? Basically, they want to, like, show off new artists in the city. So they’ve got this kinda, competition, almost? Whoever wins gets an exhibition.”

“Why’d that make you think of me?”

“Thought you could enter, like. Ari says you’re good enough, she’s the one that’s into art, I don’t know,” Niall lifts his head and smiles, softly. “I think you’re pretty good at art.”

“You’re biased,” Zayn pokes Niall softly in the stomach, smiles back at him, “Anyway, why isn’t Ari entering? She’s the actual art student, like.”

Niall furrows his brow, “Dunno, didn’t really ask her. She seemed pretty set on you doing it. Golden Threads is more, like, performance art and sculptures and stuff, isn’t it? Ari only does the painting. What do you call it? Fine art.”

“You could almost be an artist yourself, like, all that internal knowledge.”

Niall nods, “Yeah, if only I could draw more than a stick man. I’d be more famous than Picasso, you know? You’d be flitting round all these fancy galleries, watching the people try to take a subtle selfie with my art just to show that they’ve actually seen it.”

Zayn grins, and Niall smiles back at him. His whole face bright when he does so. Zayn looks at him, pauses.

“Do you really think I should do it?”

“I think you could do anything, mate.” Niall says, “If you’re that worried about it, why don’t you go in and have a look, sure? I’ll come with you, if you want.”

“Really?”

Niall frowns, “Yeah, ‘course I will. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Dunno, like, just. I didn’t think you’d be interested in following me around art galleries all day. Seems a bit boring, like.”

Niall laughs, “Zayn you spent thirty minutes last week trying to explain to me how Leda and the Swan isn’t a creepy poem, despite the fact that it is literally about a swan raping a girl. Literally, Zayn. I don’t care if you think it’s an allegory, or whatever. The poem is about a swan. A swan that fucks a girl. If I can listen to you talk about that, then I don’t think I’ll be too bored with this.”

Zayn opens his mouth, then clacks it shut again, surprised. Niall is still smiling softly at him, eyes soft.

“If I was boring you, like, you could have just said. Thought you might have found it interesting, s’all, because it’s about –”

“I did find it interesting! Don’t worry about that,” Niall says, cutting Zayn off, “I find pretty much anything you talk about interesting.”

Zayn feels surprisingly caught off guard by Niall’s open honesty. It makes him think back to Year Ten, when he’d had a hopeless crush on Daniel Browne. He had spent every second of his English class staring at the back of Daniel’s head, answering the hardest questions in some strange attempt to impress him.

With Niall, he seems to be impressed by Zayn anyway. Like he’s genuinely interested in the things that Zayn has to say. It doesn’t feel like trying, with Niall. And he grins, pokes Niall in the cheek happily.

“You’re still coming to Dublin next week, aren’t ya? Da says he’s got two hotel rooms, so it’ll be you and me in one, is that alright?”

“No,” Zayn says. “Can’t share with you, like. Imagine us two being in close quarters. It just can’t happen, Niall. I’d rather share with your dad.”

“Don’t joke! He’d let you, and all. Definitely think he likes you more than me.”

Zayn pokes Niall in the shoulder, “That’s not true. I don’t understand half the stuff you and Bobby talk about, like. I could never be a macho man like you. All that sports and beer and stuff.”

Niall laughs, head thrown back. He’s still shaking his head when the kitchen door pushes open again, and Perrie walks in.

“Alright, babe?” Zayn says, smiling at her. He waves a little too, for good measure. It’s not only Niall that he’s been missing this week, after all.

Beside him, Niall stiffens a frown flickering over his face, before he schools it back into a mask of indifference. Perrie is pushing a beanie off her head, and doesn’t notice, but Zayn does, and he blinks at him, confused. It’s unlike Niall to ever react negatively to anyone, especially Perrie. The two of them have some mutual bond over Nandos, apparently.

“Yeah, love. It’s fucking freezing outside! I thought winter was supposed to be passing.”

“I know, you wouldn’t think it, like. I’ve lost my gloves and I hate it. Even the walk to lectures now is fucking awful.”

“Exactly!” Perrie sits down at the table opposite them, and this time even she doesn’t miss the way Niall flinches back from her. She turns to him, confusion evident in her face, “Y’alright, Nialler?” She asks.

“Yeah,” Niall says, coughs unconvincingly, then stands. “I, uh, I promised Ariana that I’d do something with her, that I actually just forgot about. See you later, yeah, Zayn? Perrie?”

They both nod at him, watching as he scurries out the door. It’s weird, sure, but then, most people in the house are weird. Zayn shrugs, before turning back to Perrie and saying, “So, what’s been happening with you, lately?”

*

“So, have you been speaking to Niall, Zayn?” Louis asks, slumping into Zayn’s room at some horrendous time of the morning, and crawling into bed beside him.

“Get out.” Zayn tells him, not moving from his cocoon of blankets.

“No,” Louis purposefully shifts so that he’s under the covers with Zayn, lying so that his head is on Zayn’s ribs. “It’s nearly one in the afternoon, you lazy shit. If you’re not going to get up, then I’m going to come to you.”

Zayn thinks about shoving him off for a moment, but then figures that it’s not worth it. Not really. Especially not if he waited until one in the afternoon. Louis would never admit it, but he’s sort of a morning person.

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Louis says, happily. “Anyway, I’m actually asking you, Malik. You been talking to everyone’s favourite Irishman, lately?”

“Yeah, I talk to Niall all the time. We live together. We’re best friends. We were hanging out last night, even. He’s fine, you know he is.”

“So no unusual behaviour?”

“You mean, from people other than you, like?”

“Humour me.”

“That’s all I do,” Zayn mumbles. He winces when Louis pinches him hard, in retaliation. “I don’t know? He got all mardy when Perrie walked into the kitchen, the other day. Is that what you’re talking about? Are they fighting, or summat?”

“Or summat.” Louis says, in a crude mimicry of Zayn’s accent. Zayn taps him on the nose, and Louis scrunches up his face in response, turning into Zayn’s ribs further. “How’s that going, by the way? You and Perrie.”

Zayn shrugs, makes a sleepy noise in response. He’s properly tired, today. Didn’t go to sleep until stupidly late, last night. After four am, at least. Him and Niall had been watching SyFy channel movies and mocking them. Splitting their time between that and devouring ridiculous amounts of Four Star Pizza, that neither of them really had the money to afford.

“Dunno, haven’t seen her that much, lately. I’ve been hanging out with you and Niall more. M’actually supposed to be meeting her today.”

“When?” Louis asks.

Zayn shrugs, “Think it was half two? After she’s out of the gym, she said. She’s got a lecture and then the gym today, I’m pretty sure.”

“You should probably get up then,” Louis says.

“Probably.”

Neither of them make any attempt to move for a few long seconds. Zayn lies there, relaxes against Louis. He’s just about to fall asleep again, when Louis laughs, almost to himself.

“What?” Zayn mumbles.

“Nothing, really,” Louis pushes off Zayn, clambers out of the bed, using Zayn to help himself stand up. “I love you, Zayn, but you’re a complete and utter idiot sometimes, yeah? Give my love to Niall.”

“I’m meeting Perrie?” Zayn calls after him, confused as to why Louis keeps bringing up Niall.

Louis stops, leaning against the doorframe. He shakes his head at Zayn and says, “I know, Zayn.”

Zayn furrows his brow, but doesn’t say anything more. There’s absolutely no point in asking Louis what he’s on about, because half the time, even Louis doesn’t know what he’s on about. Zayn learned that a long time ago.

He lies in bed for another second. Exhales once, loudly, and then pushes himself up. He had to meet Perrie, after all. Louis being a fucking weirdo could wait.

*

“I’ve booked the bus to Dublin for Friday? Is that okay? Da’s booked the hotel for two nights, like. Thought that we might as well make the most out of it.” Niall says, and Zayn looks up at him.

“Yeah, fine, I just had some history of art lecture. Was planning to skip it anyway, like. What time’s the bus at?”

“Eight in the morning.”

“You what?” Zayn stares at him, hoping he heard Niall wrong. Unfortunately, from the smug way that Niall is grinning at him, he isn’t that lucky. The two of them are in the living room, Niall with his back against one of the armrests, socked feet in Zayn’s lap. His laptop is on his knees, and he says,

“I booked it for eight am. C’mon, if we’re going for a weekend in Dublin, then we might as well do it right.”

“I’m terribly sorry, like. I can’t go anymore. Just heard that I have art things to do. Mum’s coming for a visit. I need to wash my hair.”

“You’re a shite liar, Malik,” Niall says, but he’s still smiling. “You also owe me sixteen quid, by the way.” Zayn jabs him in the ankle.

“Couldn’t we have got the train?”

“S’not cheaper, like, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Niall tells him. Zayn frowns. “The bus has free wifi and nice seats. I booked you the Aircoach, grumpus. We travel in style, Zayn.” He laughs as Zayn continues to pout. It’s fake, obviously. Zayn can’t hold a grudge around Niall, even when he’s properly trying to.

“Seriously, stop being such a shite. You know we’re gonna have a good time, yeah? Anyway, I know for a fact you don’t have art things to do, because you were telling me about twenty minutes ago how well the whole thing has been going, and how you’re so much more ahead of it than you thought you would be.”

This is true, actually. Ever since Niall told him about the competition, it feels like Zayn can do nothing but make art. He’s managed to wheedle a couple of massive woodchip boards off one of the art professors, and, thanks to Ariana’s influence - he’s been able to work on them in one of the studios at the university. They’re so big, there’s absolutely no way he’d be able to work on them at home – his bedroom barely fits his bed and Arnie’s vivarium in, never mind a huge art piece.

It’s abstract stuff, mainly. Thick acrylic colours, straight from the tube, not mixed so that they stand out against the wood better. Melted crayons and glued on sand. He’s been working with textures, lately. Wants his art to physically feel the way painting it made him emotionally feel. It’s all thick reds coupled with the texture of sandpaper, shards of broken glass. Yellow coupled with fur and soft silk-like fabrics.

Niall has been listening to him talk about it for ages now.

It’s nice, having someone that listens. Having someone that understands, someone that seems so excited by it all. Niall is great to talk to about creative stuff, he creates himself, even though it’s a different medium - he still knows how it all works. That and the fact that he always seems so genuinely happy to be allowed to see Zayn’s creative process. Zayn’s told Niall that he’s allowed in his studio whenever Zayn is in there himself, but Niall still knocks every time. Still acts like he’s seeing something important. Even if it’s just a bored doodle that Zayn’s done on the back of a beer coaster.

Perrie doesn’t get it in quite the same way, she’s a law student – proper academic, she always jokes. Zayn had been talking to her about his art yesterday, after he’d met her as she was coming out of the PEC – the Queen’s University gym. She’d had a takeaway coffee in her hand and a bright pink coat on, as effortlessly attractive as she always was.

When she’d seen him, she’d flung her arms around him and he had kissed her on the cheek, and wondering if people around them thought that they were a couple.

Then he wondered if he _wanted_ people to think that they were a couple.

“How’s your art going then, babe?” She’d asked, and Zayn had lit up – tried to tell her it all, holding her hand and gesturing with the other.

“-so, like, it’s all about making the painting actually feel like the painting, you know? Texture reflecting the emotion. I want it to almost be, like, interactive.”

“So the art, like, moves? Like the paintings in Harry Potter?” She’d asked, bouncing up and down a little in clear excitement. Zayn had frowned.

“Well, no. That’s impossible. This is, like, this is just about, you know. Feeling feelings.”

Zayn could see from the look on her face that she didn’t really get it.

She’d listened, sure. Seemed happy to hear that it was all going well for him, but it wasn’t the same as when he talked about art with Niall. She hadn’t lit up about it the way that Niall had. Hadn’t asked questions in the same way. Hadn’t spent weeks hunting out materials and going,

“Could you use this one, Zaynie? For your pieces, y’know?”

It’s nice, really. To have a best friend that understands him as well as Niall does. Zayn doesn’t really know what he would do if he didn’t have Niall.

“Oi!” Niall is saying, now, his toes digging into Zayn’s thigh. Clearly, he’s been trying to get Zayn’s attention for a few moments, now. “You listening to me? I said you can pay me the sixteen quid back by taking me out for food and beers.”

“Oh, is that how I’m paying you back?” Zayn says, dryly. Niall just nods.

“Yeah, c’mon. I want a veggie burger in Wetherspoons. And, like, four pints.”

Zayn squints at him, “Anyone ever told you you’re kind of predictable, Niall?”

Niall is shoving his laptop onto their rickety coffee table and trying to locate his shoes at the same time. He turns to Zayn, sticks his tongue out.

“Dunno what you’re talking about, mate. I’m ordering the veggie burger. That’s as unpredictable as you can get.”

Zayn just laughs.

*

On Thursday, the day before Dublin, he gets into a fight with Perrie.

It’s weird, because it’s the first fight that they’ve ever had. Normally, spending time with Perrie is easy. It’s almost as second nature as hanging out with Niall or Louis, or even Liam. This time, Perrie had been hissing at him, glaring at him with her fists clenched – like he was no better than her prick of an ex-boyfriend.

He doesn’t know if he would have made it out alive, had it not been for Jade and Liam bursting into the kitchen.

The two of them had took one look at the situation and somehow managed to successfully divert it. Zayn isn’t quite sure how, but Jade and Liam have always been good at that kind of thing.

Jade had said, “Pez, babe! I’ve got something I want to show you! C’mon, me and Liam have been snooping round the vintage shops. Wait ‘til you see my new skirt.” Dragging Perrie upstairs to the bedrooms. Liam had just looked at Zayn, clearly concerned, before mumbling something about putting the kettle on for everyone.

The fight was over something so stupid, too.

Zayn hadn’t told her that he was going to Dublin for the weekend. It hadn’t been a deliberate secret, he’d naturally assumed that she already knew about it. Everyone else in the house seemed to hear about it just fine, so Zayn still isn’t sure how Perrie managed to miss it.

Niall and Liam were close enough that Zayn is sure Niall told him right away, after all, Zayn had told Louis almost as soon as he’d agreed to it. Half because he was excited, half because he was horrified at himself for voluntarily agreeing to go to a sporting event. Jesy and Harry had also heard about it, because they’d brought it up with Zayn at breakfast the other day. Harry had told him that the two of them expected presents, while Jesy nodded, sliding a neatly printed list entitled, “Acceptable Gifts,” across the table to him.

Zayn had seen it and laughed around his mouthful of cereal. As a result, milk had come out of his noise, and Jesy had laughed so hard at Zayn’s misfortune she’d cried.

The whole thing had become quite a big ordeal. Louis is still angry that no one got it on film.

Zayn isn’t sure where Perrie’s been that she _hasn’t_ heard about the visit to Dublin.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t. Now, she seems convinced that Zayn was trying to be malicious, or purposefully mess her about. She seems to think he planned this whole thing behind her back in some deranged attempt to make her jealous, as though him spending time down South with his best friend was his way of telling her he was sleeping with other people.

Not that he could be punished for sleeping with other people, really. He hadn’t been, but, as far as he knew, Perrie and him were nothing more than a bit of a laugh when they were drunk and horny. A nice, friendly way of blowing off steam. Neither of them had ever brought up the topic of exclusivity. Ridiculously, he’d tried to explain himself, thinking it would help if he got his point across.

It didn’t.

“I don’t care if we’re not dating or whatever, Zayn. Just be fucking _honest_ with me.” She’d hissed. Zayn had just stared at her wordlessly. Completely clueless about how the situation managed to get this bad, but feeling like complete and utter shit, regardless.

Zayn groans, and snaps the book he’s been fruitlessly trying to read closed. It’s been hours since the fight, but he still can’t get it out of his head. Not a single word on the page has registered with him. Sighing, he puts it down on his bedside cabinet, and looks at his alarm for the time.

2:03AM.

He has to be up in less than five hours, and he doesn’t feel tired at all. Frustrated, he rolls out of bed. He’s not got a solid plan in his head until wandering down the hall, stopping only when he gets to Niall’s door. Quietly tiptoeing in, he smiles at the sight of Niall, curled up in his sheets on the right side of the bed, facing outwards. Slowly, Zayn slides in beside him.

He thinks he’s gotten away with it, when Niall rolls over and blinks at him.

“M’hello,” he says. His voice is still slurred with sleep, and his eyes shut almost as soon as he opens them. Still, there’s a small smile around the edges of his mouth, “What’re you doing in m’bed?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Zayn whispers. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. I can go.”

Niall finds his wrist under the covers and holds tight, squeezing it once before loosening his hold again. Zayn smiles at him, and Niall opens his eyes once more, shuffles closer to where Zayn’s lying, throws his arm over Zayn’s waist.

“If you can’t sleep, stay.” He says, and then his eyes close again. There are only a few short moments between Niall’s eyes closing, and his breath evening out, slowing back to the clear sounds of sleep. His chest rising and falling so close that Zayn can feel it.

Zayn lies there, warm from the blankets and Niall’s body beside his.

He counts in time to the rhythm of Niall’s breaths, until he too, falls asleep.

*

“Wake up, Aurora,” Someone says, hand stroking through his hair. Zayn bats his hand at them, groaning and pressing his face further into what he’s curled around, the warmth of the bed too much for him to want to get up.“Oof.” The person says, then – which is when Zayn realises that he’s got his face shoved into Niall’s stomach.

He lifts his head, looks up at Niall, who’s smiling at him softly. His hair is soft; there’s a lack of the usual product, and it’s sitting flat over his head. Zayn reaches a lazy hand up and ruffles it, grinning at the way Niall squirms under him.

“Time’sit?” He asks, and Niall laughs.

“Just after seven. In the morning. Gotta get up and dressed and to the bus station in time, haven’t we?”

Zayn groans, rolling off Niall so he’s flat on his back, on the other side of the bed. “I hate you.” He tells Niall. Niall just laughs, reaching over and jabbing Zayn softly in the stomach, just under his ribs.

“You don’t climb into the beds of people you hate, Malik.”

“There’s a long history of people doing just that, Horan. Clearly I’m trying to seduce you into giving me something valuable.”

Niall gasps, puts his hand over his heart and says, in a bad Southern American accent, “Why Mr. Malik, are you trying to deflower me?” Zayn stares at him, mildly horrified. Niall’s only response is to flutter his eyelashes. “I get a lot of offers from a lot of boys, you know.”

“It’s too early in the morning for this conversation. I think it’s always too early to hear someone say, ‘deflower’, actually.”

“Ah, but if you are trying to seduce me, you should probably hurry it all up. The second part is true you know, Zaynie baby,” Niall says, back to his normal accent. He seems pretty amused by the whole thing. “I was actually invited to a threesome with Harry and Louis once. Only, I said no, because Harry hadn’t talked about it with Louis before propositioning me. Also we’d made our way through most of a half bottle of Glenn’s vodka, and they do say that’s the devil’s drink.”

“I’m going to get dressed,” Zayn says. He doesn’t really know what else you can say to something like that. He isn’t that surprised – Louis has been known to make the same kind of jokes to him, in the past. Still, it’s just too early to properly process anything, never mind Niall talking about threesomes. “How are we getting to the bus station, by the way?”

Niall shrugs, “If you can shake Liam awake long enough to get him to nick us Jade slash Leigh’s car, then I suppose we could get a lift. If not, I was thinking we could just walk.”

“That gives us, like, twenty minutes to get ready.”

“It was sleep or a shower, princess. I figured you would want to cash in the extra minutes sleeping. I know how you need your beauty sleep. I mean, face like yours. You definitely need it.” Niall winks, pressing a sloppy kiss to Zayn’s cheek before climbing out of the bed. Zayn rolls over onto his side, watching him as he roots through his drawers.

Niall’s curtains are cracked open, but only slightly. It’s enough to let the light from the morning come in, just barely. Enough to see Niall’s outline as he pads around in his ratty black boxers and oversized Batman shirt that he wears to sleep in. Zayn’s pretty sure that the shirt was his, once, because Niall has never expressed any real interest in Batman. He thinks about saying something, calling Niall out on it. Then he figures that over half his wardrobe are things that he’s stolen from the other boys, so he’s not in any place to judge. In fact, the trackie bottoms he’s in now definitely used to belong to Liam, at some point.

He’s slipping back into sleep, Niall’s soft humming and quiet movements doing nothing to help keep him awake. His eyes have shut again, head dropped back onto the pillow. He’s seconds away from falling asleep once more, when Niall’s door is shoved open with a bang which jerks him awake.

“Nialler!” Louis yells, “Have you seen Zayn? Jade says she’s gonna give the two of you a lift and –”

Louis is squinting at Zayn, who raises a hand and gives him a lazy salute, which only make Louis’ eyes narrow further. For some reason, the sight of Zayn in Niall’s bed seems to be shocking; despite the fact Louis crawled into Zayn’s bed only a couple of days ago.

“Found him,” Niall says, and does a cheesy attempt at jazz hands. Louis’ head snaps to look at Niall. There are a few moments where the two of them stare at each other, seemingly having some wordless conversation – one which Zayn clearly isn’t privy to.

“Didn’t realise you were so partial to the beds of other people in this house, Zayn.” Louis says, “You’re almost making a habit of it.”

“S’my face,” Zayn says. He’s still lying down, making no real attempt to get up. The sheets are still warm, and there’s something about Niall’s laundry that always smells nicer than Zayn’s own. Recently, he’s started sneaking his own clothes into Niall’s pile for that very reason. “People automatically want me in their bed, innit? You can’t talk, Tommo. You were climbing in with me only the other day.”

“You’re a smug twat.” Louis says, but he sounds fond. “Anyway, you need to get up if you and Niall want to go on your big romantic weekend in Dublin.”

Zayn breathes in and out a couple of times, allowing himself to accept the fact he’s going to have to get up. Then, he finally rolls out of the bed. Niall and Louis are still standing, looking at him. Louis is pulling a hideous face, but Niall is just smiling at him, quietly fond. Zayn smiles back at him, purposefully ignoring Louis. He reaches his arms above his head and stretches; his shoulders and back popping. Then he walks round the bed to where Louis and Niall are, pressing a quick kiss to Niall’s cheek.

“I still hate you for waking me up this early.”

“Mhm,” Niall says, eyes shutting and body swaying into Zayn’s, only slightly. “You don’t hate me at all, don’t lie.”

Zayn can’t resist wrapping an arm around Niall’s waist and hugging him closer. He doesn’t know why, but there’s something about being pressed against Niall that’s automatically comforting. It was why he’d come to him last night. Why he goes to Niall with anything really.

Niall is always warm, and gentle, and he reminds Zayn of coming home. Reminds him of relaxing.

“It could be argued that I like you a little,” Zayn concedes, his mouth still so close to Niall’s face that his lips brush against it as he talks. He feels Niall’s cheek lift as he smiles.

“You two are sickening,” Louis says, his eyebrows raised. Zayn laughs, breaking away from Niall and kissing Louis on the cheek as he walks past.

“You can’t talk,” He says, “I’ve seen you and Harry together, Louis. What is it, now? Five sets of matching tattoos?”

“Six,” Louis replies, looking slightly murderous. Zayn looks at him pointedly, and Louis gives him the finger.

“Go get dressed, you prick. I was nice enough to get Liam to get Jade for you, the least you could do is stop wandering around in your pyjamas, reminding everyone you wake up looking that attractive.”

“I wake up flawless,” Zayn sings, still hovering by the door. Niall throws a pillow at him, and he laughs, batting it away so that it falls on the floor.

*

Jade had driven them, half asleep, with Belle and Sebastian’s, “If You’re Feeling Sinister” playing from the cassette player – because Jade and Leigh’s car is so old, it still uses cassettes. When they’d got to the Europa bus station, she’d kissed them both on the cheek and told them to be good like she was their mother. Niall had waved exaggeratedly at the car the whole time she was driving away, until she drove round the corner and they couldn’t see her anymore.

On the AirCoach, Zayn and Niall choose the seats at the back, Niall beside the window – because he’s not good at resting on transport - so he at least deserves to see the view. Zayn falls asleep almost instantly, head on Niall’s shoulder.

He sleeps for most of the journey, waking up briefly when the bus stops outside Dublin Airport – the only stop that the bus has during the journey.

“We there?” He asks, momentarily disorientated. Niall shakes his head.

“Nah, not unless you wanna get a plane to somewhere, mate. Don’t think I’ve got the euros to cover us, though.”

“We should go on a holiday somewhere,” Zayn says.

Niall looks affronted, “What, this holiday not exotic enough for you, Zayn? We had to change our currency and all, before coming down here.”

“Hardly a holiday for you, like. More of a homecoming.”

Niall nods, thoughtfully. “This is true. Where should we go, then? Jetting off to somewhere exotic? I’ve always fancied Australia, myself.”

“You’d burn; you’re rubbish at remembering to put on sunscreen.”

Niall laughs, “S’why I’ll bring you with me, yeah? To remind me.”

Zayn nods, trying desperately to keep a hold of the conversation, but it’s still only half nine in the morning, hours before Zayn normally wakes up. Not to mention, the rumble of the engine and the sound of Niall breathing is just rhythmical enough that it’s almost impossible to hold conversation. Niall snorts.

“You’re falling asleep again, aren’t you? Don’t, mate. There’s no point – it only takes a quarter of an hour to get from here to O’Connell Street.”

“It’s all your fault, you’re the one that forced me to be up before I was ready.”

“Yeah, the fact you were still awake past two am last night is all my fault.”

Zayn smiles, “Nah, that bit’s Pez’s fault, like.”

“How so?”

“Had a fight with her, she’s pissed I’m coming with you, or summat. She didn’t know about it.”

Niall laughs, the movement of his shoulder shakes Zayn’s head, “How the hell did she not know about it? Jesy’s still laughing about your cereal incident.”

“I dunno, she was proper mad, though. Felt like shit. It’s why I wasn’t getting to sleep, like. I am sorry about waking you, s’just, I dunno. Always sleep better when you’re around.”

Niall’s face flushes, clearly pleased, and he quickly looks out of the window. Zayn grins, for someone that manages to pull as many people as Niall, he still gets adorably flustered about compliments.

“You’d think, for being the one that’s slept with the most people in the house, you wouldn’t be so utterly shit at taking compliments, mate.” Zayn says, and Niall laughs, pressing the back of his hands to his cheeks, clearly still embarrassed.

“You all said you wouldn’t bring that up,” He replies, nudging Zayn in the side. Zayn just smiles.

That had been a particularly interesting night. It had been Liam’s idea in the first place, which is what had made the whole thing even more bizarre – because normally Liam got all shifty when people brought up sex, skirting around the subject.

“I just wanna know, like?” Liam had said, frowning when Louis had cackled and started trying to shove his elbow into Liam’s face. They’d been doing tequila shots of an upturned laundry basket, because someone had moved the coffee table and no one had been able to find it.

“You wanna know how many people we’ve all shagged?” Zayn asks, “Why? You inviting us to some kind of kinky sex club, where you have to have slept with a certain number of people? Like, they rank you based on how many holes you’ve shoved your dick into?”

“That’s a bit exclusive,” Perrie had cut in, “Don’t have a dick, do I? How would I get into this club?”

“The amount of dicks you’ve had in your hole?” Harry had said, thoughtfully. Niall had cracked up laughing, then – his face bright red, joint hanging in his hand.

“I supposed you’ve got to count your experiences somehow, Harry, babe.” Jesy laughed – holding a shot glass out in a salute. The glass had been cracked pretty much in half, but Niall had picked them up, three for a quid in Poundland, so no one was that upset when Harry had dropped it – you could just only fill it half full before it spilled, now.

After that, the whole night had crumbled into anarchy, the highlight being when Harry had fumblingly admitted that he’d only slept with one person, Louis looking unspeakably smug on the sofa beside him, one arm wrapped around his shoulders. It shouldn’t have been that surprising, really – Harry was sixteen when Louis and him had gotten together, but still.

“One person?” Jesy had hooted, slapping her hand on her thigh, “And it was _Louis_? Christ, Niall should sleep with you right now, just to make up for it.” She laughed even more at how red Niall went. He was still embarrassed from when he found out that his number was the highest. He’d held a pillow up to his face and sank into the sofa – clearly trying to pretend that he wasn’t there.

Zayn laughs remembering it, now. The bus is getting pretty close to the city centre, and Niall is shaking his head, as red as he had been on the night.

“Dunno why you’re so embarrassed by it, mate. Most people would be well chuffed that they were so successful at pulling, like.”

Niall shakes his head, “It’s not about that, though. It’s about, like, having a good time? I don’t want people to think that I’m only sleeping with them for a number, or whatever. Sex is fun, yeah? It shouldn’t be a competition, or some, like, success rating or whatever.”

“Aw, look at you, being all defensive of the fact you’re clearly a good shag.”

Niall goes even redder than he was seconds ago, laughing and putting a hand over his eyes, “You make it out like I’m some kind of fuckboy, or something. I call them back, you know!”

“Call them back in the dead of night, yeah?” Zayn waggles his eyebrows, “When you’re lonely and you can’t sleep, that’s when you call them, innit?”

“You insulting me, Zayners?” Niall is still clearly flushed, but he shakes his head, smiling.

“Never,” Zayn says. “I’m secretly jealous you can do the whole casual thing so well.”

“Why? Are you and Perrie not succeeding?” Niall looks deadly serious all of a sudden, and Zayn blinks. He’d momentarily forgotten about his thing with Perrie, but now that he’s been reminded of it, he groans.

“Clearly not, like. I mean, she was pretty mad at me.”

Niall shrugs, attention fixated out the window. The bus is currently driving down O’Connell Street, and Niall’s smile is getting a little wider. Niall down South is a sight to behold, practically lit up from the inside. “Ah, she’ll get over it. The two of you are proper close, innit? Plus, no one can stay mad at you for long, Malik. Believe me, I know.”

“Oh yeah? When have you ever had to be mad at me, like?”

Niall glances back from the window, and smirks, “I haven’t ever been mad at you, Malik. You know that.”

Zayn nods, “It’s my face.” He says, and Niall grins, shaking his head as the bus pulls up.

According to Niall, Bobby is waiting for them at the spike, which is only a few metres from where the bus left them off. It’s remarkably busy, in Dublin, and Zayn looks around – surprised that there are so many people. So many people and all of them were clearly trying to _get_ somewhere. Belfast is so small compared to Dublin that Zayn frequently forgets that he’s even in a city. Here, it’s impossible to forget.

“Can’t believe how many other people are awake,” Zayn says, and Niall grins.

“Well, it is ten, now. That’s most people’s morning, you know. I hear it’s what the adults do.”

“Horrifying,” Zayn replies. “M’never growing up, me.”

Niall nods, and laughs slightly, but he doesn’t answer. He’s too busy focused on the bottom of the spike, where Bobby Horan is standing, hands in his pockets, smiling at the two of them.

“Dad!” Niall says, half walking, half jogging over. It’s cute, really – Niall sees his dad more than any of the rest of them do, just because he lives the closest to home. He still always seems to get so properly excited about it, though, waiting by the window like a little kid when his dad is making the drive down to visit. “How’re you doing?” He asks.

Bobby nods, gruffly. He shrugs, and then says, “Yeah, doing alright, lad. You keeping well?”

Niall nods, and turns back to Zayn, one arm still slung over his dad’s shoulders, “Yeah, m’good. Especially because I’ve managed to get Zayn to agree to an actual sporting event!”

Bobby smiles, and raises a hand, giving Zayn a small wave, “Y’alright, Zayn? S’good to see you again.”

“You too, Bobby. How’s life?”

“Ach, you know, it’s alright. If you didn’t wanna come see the game with us, you didn’t have to. I know this one here talks a lot, but y’can always tell him to shut the feck up. God knows I do.”

Niall gasps dramatically, and puts a hand over his heart, “I’m hurt, da. Can’t believe that my own father is talking about me so callously. I’m wounded. Shocked. Don’t think I’ll ever recover.”

“You’re a bloody drama queen, that’s what you are,” Bobby says, laughing. Niall grins, too, watching as his father breaks away from him to go and hug Zayn. Zayn hugs back, if only a little awkwardly. He loves Bobby, thinks he’s a legend – but he always feels this innate need to impress him, show him that he’s not messing Niall about in any way.

“So, dad,” Niall says, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. “Where are we staying?”

“The Leeson Bridge Guest House. It’s a half hour walk from here, but there’s a bus that comes every five minutes. It’s also only a twenty minute walk from the stadium.”

“Sick, you’re class, dad.”

“Yeah, you and Zayn are sharing a room, and then I’m in the one next to it.”

“Sounds good to me,” Niall says, taking Zayn’s hand as they walk and swinging it between them. Zayn smiles, squeezing Niall’s hand. Niall looks back at him, darting forwards to press a kiss to his temple.

“Do you know what the best thing about Dublin is?” He asks, before raising his voice and saying, pointedly. “Other than seeing my dad, obviously.”

Bobby snorts, too busy looking at something on his phone to properly react.

“What?”

“They have a Boojum here, now,” Niall says, laughing. “S’fantastic, all my qualms about being back home are gone.”

“Brilliant,” Zayn says. Niall frowns.

“I don’t think you’re excited about this as I am, Zayn.”

“I’m very excited, Niall, don’t worry,” Zayn says, pulling Niall closer by their joined hands, Niall goes, readily, and Zayn slings his arm around him, holding Niall to his chest. It makes walking slightly more complicated than it could be, but Niall sags against him, so Zayn figures that it’s worth it.

“You hype for the match?” He asks, and Niall nods, grinning.

“Yeah! Ireland are in with a proper good chance, I reckon! I was looking up their stats and they’ve won their past few matches! Plus, they’ve scored more tries this season, and all. Like, Italy are good – but the cold numbers show Ireland are doing better, you know? It’ll be legend, like. Well pleased dad got us the tickets.”

“Aye, and that’s the only thing he’ll be pleased about.” Bobby snorts. “Never mind that I’ve bought him a hotel room and I’ll be paying for the food, like.”

“I was going to pay you back for the hotel room,” Niall says, indignant. Bobby’s brow furrows.

“Get away out of that there,” He says. “You’re not paying me back for anything; you’re skint enough as it is. You’d pay me back, only to call me up next week asking for money.”

Niall doesn’t say anything to this, but he does pull a face, which his dad laughs at.

“That’s when you know he’s lost the argument.” Bobby says, smiling at Zayn. Zayn nods.

“Yeah, believe me, I’ve been there.”

Niall pulls a face at him, too.

*

The Guest house that they’re staying in is proper nice. Niall whistles, lowly, when they get to it.

“Jeez, da, you went all out on this one, ey?”

“Nah, got one of them last minute deals on the net, you know? Greg did it all for me. I’m rubbish at all that stuff.”

“It’s well nice, Bobby,” Zayn says. “Thank you for this, seriously.”

Bobby flaps a hand at him, “It’s no bother, Niall would only talk my ear off if it was just me and him. You’re doing me a favour, lad. Honestly.”

“The amount he insults me, like. You wouldn’t think that I’m the favourite child,” Niall says, pushing the door to the guest house open. Bobby laughs.

The reception area is welcoming, and there’s a woman sitting behind the desk. She smiles at them all as they walk in, “Hey, how can I help you?”

“Got two rooms under Horan?” Bobby asks, and the woman clicks on the computer, pink nails tapping at the keys.

“That’s from today until Sunday morning, yes?” She asks, and Bobby nods.

“Yeah, that’s us.”

“You’re in rooms five and six, if you need anything then reception is open from six until three thirty AM every day. The rooms are just down the hall there,” She points to a door that seems as if it leads down a little corridor. “We don’t have room service, but we do offer breakfast and lunch, which, I believe you’re only signed up for the breakfast?” Bobby nods, and she smiles, “That’s fine, then. Here are your keys.”

She roots around in one of the cupboards under the desk she’s sitting at, coming back with two silver keys. One has the tag, ‘five’ on it, and the other, ‘six.’ Bobby passes the five one to Niall.

“G’wan,” He says. “I can tell you’re desperate to go check it out.”

Niall grins, giving his dad a quick hug before taking Zayn’s hand and practically forcing him down the corridor. “I love hotels,” He says. “There’s something so exciting about them, you know? I always like to pretend that I’m famous when I’m staying in hotels. Like I’m Justin Bieber or something.”

“You’re a lot more George Ezra than Justin Bieber, bro,” Zayn says, laughing. Niall shrugs.

“Either’s good with me, man. Guess you’re right, though. Justin’s got that whole, like, RnB thing down now, innit? That’s more your style, what with your tattoos and cigarettes. I’m more, what do you call it? White boy with a guitar.”

“Anyway, here’s Wonderwall?”

Niall nods, “Yeah, exactly. You’re more dark and brooding than me.”

“Resident bad boy, me. So mysterious.”

Niall laughs. “The day you’re mysterious will also be the day that Hell gets cold, Zaynie baby. We watched A Streetcar Named Desire and you cried from the opening scene right up to the credits.”

Zayn scowls at him, “Blanche deserved better, don’t use that against me.”

Niall raises his hands. They’re outside their door, now, and he fumbles with the key a little before finally sliding it into the lock. “I know, I know. I’m just saying, yeah? I’ve seen you when we watch The Lion King, as well. You’re not exactly oozing masculine energy, mate.”

“I could take you in a fight!” Zayn says, and Niall cracks up laughing, head thrown back.

“No Zayn, no, you couldn’t. Don’t forget I know you, bro. Like, no matter how many boxing moves Liam tries to teach you, you couldn’t throw an actual punch to save your life.” As he speaks, he pushes open the door to their room.

There’s a few seconds where Niall just looks into the room, stopped in the doorway, frozen. His mouth is still open from when he’d been talking to Zayn, and Zayn looks at him – worried.

“What, what is it? Is there like, a dead body in there or summat? Your face has gone all weird,” Zayn asks, trying to push past Niall and see into the room, find out what’s wrong. Niall shakes his head, still stock still in the doorway.

“No, Zayn. It is arguably worse than that. My dad thinks we’re dating.”

“ _What_?”

Zayn pushes Niall gently out of the way, and then sees what Niall’s been staring at. The room in question is a single double, one bed in the direct centre of the room. Zayn looks around, at the neatly pressed sheets and the pretty décor. A weekend in Dublin with his boyfriend and his dad, he thinks, and cracks up laughing.

“This isn’t funny!” Niall says, but he’s smiling too, eyes bright.

“It’s pretty funny, like. I can’t believe Bobby thinks I’m dating you! I would have been so much nicer had I known. Tried to impress him more, like. Bought your dad a gift, you know, treated you like a proper boyfriend should. Anyway, s’not like it’s an issue, yeah? Sure, we shared a bed last night.”

“That was without my father knowing we shared a bed. Oh god. My dad thinks we share a bed.”

“I thought the whole point was that we _do_ share a bed.”

“Stop being so casual about this, I’m horrified. I dunno why he thinks we’re dating. Jesus, I swear I didn’t say anything to him.”

“Well, he knows you like blokes sometimes, yeah?” Niall nods. “Yeah, well, like – there’s that. I mean, we do touch a lot, you know. He might have just assumed.”

“I touch everyone, Zayn.” Zayn waggles his eyebrows, and Niall gives him the finger. “Piss off, dick. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know. You don’t touch everyone the same though, do you? Like, to be fair, you did hold my hand the whole way here.”

“You don’t mind?” Niall asks, looking up at him sharply. Zayn shrugs it off.

“Nah, course not, bro. If I minded I wouldn’t let you do it, you know that. M’just saying, we’re pretty gay, like. If I was your dad, I’d probably think we were dating too.” Zayn has slid his shoes off while he’s been talking - and he thumps down on the bed, head on the pillow. It’s incredibly comfortable, and he’s still tired from Niall forcing him to wake up so early.

“You _are_ gay,” Niall mutters. Zayn peels off one of his socks and throws it at Niall, laughing at Niall’s noise of disgust.

“That’s bisexual erasure, Niall. Do better.”

Zayn’s head is heavy, and he feels like he’s half asleep already – words coming out far more slurred than he wanted them to. He’s drifting, eyes shut – some weird, half formed dream about him and Niall on a boat. He’s startled when someone pokes him, hard, in the neck.

“Ow,” He says, sitting up blearily and rubbing the spot where Niall’s finger dug in. In the time from him getting on the bed and shutting his eyes, Niall seems to have unpacked both of their cases, and changed his shirt.

There is a small chance that Zayn fell asleep.

“Get up, loser,” Niall says. He’s wearing his glasses, sitting slightly wonky on his face due to Jade accidentally sitting on them a while ago. Zayn looks at him, temporarily derailed by how _nice_ Niall looks with his glasses on. They frame his face; make him look all studious, and smart. Zayn wants to hold his hand. “We’re going shopping.”

Zayn blinks at him, “Did you just quote Mean Girls at me?”

“Yeah, I did,” Niall looks unabashed. “You’re the one that understood the quote though, bro. C’mon, I let you sleep a whole hour and a half, proper good mate, me.” Niall sighs, dramatically. “First day supposedly dating, and he doesn’t even love me enough to stay awake. Falls asleep the second we get in the door,” He turns away, then, one hand clasped to his chest dramatically – as though he’s talking to an imaginary audience. “I can see the headlines now; My boyfriend won’t stay awake long enough to have sex with me! Leaves one sock on to go to bed! The relationship is crumbling.”

“Was I really asleep for a whole hour and a half?” Zayn asks, ignoring the rest of Niall’s tangent. Niall nods.

“Yeah, it was cute; you fell asleep as soon as you lay down. Always forget how rubbish you are without sleep. Your snoring wasn’t as cute, though.”

“Leave me alone,” Zayn says, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, blearily. Niall grins.

“M’only teasing, come on, it’s still only midday. Don’t you wanna wander round a bit? I know how much you love them weird shops in Temple Bar.”

This was true. Over half of Zayn’s clothes came from the Temple Bar area, normally as a result of weekend trips with Niall. He loved all the weird, independent shops floating around there, especially the vintage ones. Not to mention - the street art was pretty cool, too. He had countless photographs of Niall posing in front of it.

Zayn rubs at his jaw. He’s trying to remain cool and aloof when he says, “ _Well,_ ” Only, as soon as he does - Niall’s whole face lights up.

Zayn has never been very good at lying to Niall.

“Come on, come on. We’ve only got today and tomorrow, you know. I wanna be back in Belfast before four on Sunday.”

“Why?”

Niall wrinkles his nose, looking put off, “Got a paper I need to write. It’s bullshit. You pick music as your course because you think it involves minimal writing, but apparently I actually have to articulate points, or something. What a joke. All I wanna do is sing songs.”

Zayn smiles, standing up and putting his arm around Niall. He presses his nose to Niall’s temple, and grins at the way Niall practically melts against him. “It’ll be worth it though, yeah, babe? I need my man to be educated.” He says, and Niall nods a little. “’Sides, you do sing songs, all the time, like. Don’t think I can’t hear you singing them Westlife songs in the shower.”

“Does it bother you?”

Zayn laughs, “Mate, it bothers me when you aren’t singing. S’weird, like you’re being too quiet, or summat.”

Niall smiles, passes Zayn his shoes from where he’d stored them beside the chest of drawers. Zayn pulls them on, then stares at them, confused. They’re not his normal shoes.

“Think I stole Louis’ vans,” He says. Niall looks at them.

“Was wondering, seemed a bit too happy for your taste, mate.”

“What?”

“You know, too happy for your brooding English student thing. You wear black Doc Martens and smoke Marlboro Reds, Zayn, darling,” Niall grins. “Those shoes are baby blue slip on Vans.”

“I was very tired this morning.”

Niall just smiles slightly softer, leans forwards to kiss him on the cheek, then ruffles his hair, “I know, I know. I’m a terrible person who books the bus too early. How can I ever make it up to you? Would a Boojum do?”

“You can’t buy my affections, Niall. I’m not as easy as you.”

Niall’s mouth twitches, “Oh yeah, you sure? That’s alright then, I won’t bother.”

“I mean,” Zayn is startled. “I said you can’t buy my affections. Not that you can’t buy me a Boojum.”

Niall does laugh, then, holding out his arm like Zayn is one of those women in the old timey movies. The ones that Harry and Louis like, and Liam pretends not to – even though he’s mysteriously always in the room whenever they get put on.

“What about your dad?” Zayn asks, and Niall shrugs.

“Told him we’d meet him somewhere at eight for dinner. We’ve got hours, babe. Whole day in Dublin, you and me, it’ll be legend.”

Zayn loops his arm with Niall’s, smiling. Legend.

*

Temple Bar is busy, people pushing through. Niall wrinkles his nose at them all and drags Zayn into Lulu’s – which is painted pink and has three different shops, all in the one building. The shop on the middle floor, the first one that you enter – has a woman working there. Beside her, on a low sofa – there’s a small ginger Pitbull, dog toy in his mouth, quietly snuffling.

Niall takes one look at it and gets instantly side-lined.

“I’ve changed my mind, Zayn.” Niall says. He’s sitting on the floor of the shop, so that he’s face to face with the dog. “You can have your day in Dublin. I’m staying with this dog. It’s my new best friend, we’re bonded for life, now. Is she for sale?”

The woman who owns the dog laughs, shaking her head, “Most people have that reaction when they see her.”

“She is the cutest dog I have ever seen in my life.”

“I’m going downstairs to look at the clothes,” Zayn says, laughing. “Take it you’ll be here when I come back, bro?”

Niall nods.

However, when Zayn finally does manage to tear himself away from the eclectic array of vintage clothing downstairs – Niall isn’t there. Zayn squints, shifting the bag that’s now in his hand, and looks at the woman working there. She’s smiles, pointing, “He went outside a couple of minutes ago.” She tells him, and Zayn nods in thanks.

He’s about to leave, when he catches sight of the stickers sitting on one of the tables closer to the door. There are big, black stickers with a white outline of the dog on it. It’s a Pitbull. Due to the fact that almost everything in the shop is handmade, Zayn assumes it’s the woman’s dog. Grinning, he picks one up doubles back to the counter. “I’ll take one of these, please.”

The woman smiles at him, cashing it in and handing him his change. “You’re sweet to your boyfriend,” She tells him. Zayn laughs, but doesn’t correct her. If people want to think he’s dating Niall – he’s not going to be upset. Niall is lovely, and fit. It’s flattering that people think he could ever successfully date Niall.

Niall is standing against the wall of Lulu’s, lit cigarette in his mouth. With his glasses and blue shirt on, he looks effortlessly hipster. A couple of girls walking past do a double take when they see him, and Zayn laughs, walking towards him and stealing the cigarette out of his mouth.

“Thought you’d quit?” Zayn says, Niall turns to him, making a half-hearted attempt at trying to snatch his cigarette back.

“So did I. Dunno, things have been stressing me a little, lately. Fell back into a few bad habits. My nails are destroyed, look.” He holds up his hand, and Zayn can see where Niall has bitten them right down to the quick. He winces, grabbing at Niall’s hand, and pressing a kiss to each of his fingertips, smiling at the way Niall lights up softly.

“Don’t stress, babe,” He says. “I got you something.” Niall’s whole face changes, and he bounces on his feet a little, excited.

“Show me,” He says, clapping his hands together, like a child. “Show me, show me, show me.”

Zayn laughs, pulling the sticker out of his pocket and handing it to Niall. It’s a stupid thing – it was overpriced, really. Hardly even that exciting.

Niall takes it like it’s the best thing he’s ever been offered.

His whole face brightens, smile so large that it reminds Zayn of supernovas. Taking the sticker off Zayn, Niall slides it carefully into his wallet so that it doesn’t get creased, before going on his tiptoes – giving Zayn a kiss high on his cheek.

“You’re sweet,” Niall says. “Thank you, I love it,” Then, he looks up at Zayn. “Are you hungry, yet? Want lunch, like?” I need to treat you for being such a good boyfriend. He winks, and Zayn smiles, shrugging.

“I could eat.”

“C’mon, then. Boojum awaits us. It’s really close, actually – it’s on Millennial Walkway – and I did promise that I’d buy you one.”

Zayn nods, “You did. You definitely owe me from when I bought you one, the other week.” Niall looks at him out of the side of his eye, and steals the cigarette off him again, taking the last couple of drags and shaking his head.

“Yeah, yeah, alright. Zayn Malik’s weekend of being spoiled, let it commence.”

“You woke me up at seven AM and you’re dragging me to see the rugby, at no point am I getting spoiled.”

“You get to share a bed with Niall Horan,” Niall says, artfully avoiding the foot traffic as a large amount of tourists talking in French walk past them. “I think that’s pretty lucky, like. Surely tons of people would say you’re getting spoiled there, no?”

“Oh yeah, all our millions of fans, like. How could I forget?”

Niall waggles his eyebrows, “You never know, mate. Maybe there’s some alternate universe where we’re globally famous, you know? Maybe I’m best mates with Michael Buble.”

“You wish.”

“Anything is possible, man!” Niall is talking with his hands, cigarette forgotten – though by this point, it’s burned down to the filter anyway. Zayn takes it out of his hand, and stubs it into the nearest bin. Niall sticks his tongue out at him as he does, “I could have done that! I’m not an invalid.”

“I don’t know,” Zayn says, “If you’re convinced you could be best friends with Buble, maybe you’re a little bit troubled, innit babe?”

Niall laughs, “You’re a dick,” He says, fondly.

*

It’s raining when they wake up the next day. Niall is the one to get up first, forcing Zayn awake after he takes his arm from around Zayn’s waist. The loss of warmth makes Zayn groan, latching onto Niall’s wrist.

“C’mon, Niall,” He croaks, voice still thick with morning. “S’hours until we have to get to the match. Come back to bed, yeah? _Sleep_.”

Niall gently pries Zayn’s fingers off of him, bending down to kiss Zayn on his eyebrow, “Sorry, babe. I promised my dad me and him would get breakfast together. You don’t have to come, though.”

Zayn thinks about going back to sleep, but they went to bed pretty early last night – and the bed isn’t nearly as comfortable without Niall to lie against. He shifts around, sitting up and blinking at Niall, who’s still standing there in nothing but some Adidas tracksuit bottoms, hanging low on his hips.

“What time is it?” He asks.

“Twenty to ten, bro. It’s almost a normal person time to wake up!” Zayn sticks out his tongue and throws his fist, punching Niall softly in the stomach. Niall curves in as though the punch has wounded him, and laughs. “Are you coming down for breakfast? You really don’t have to, man. Me and da are probably going to spend the whole time talking about sports, and I know you don’t exactly follow it all.”

“Hey,” Zayn sits up, indignant. “I can hold my own, alright? I know what the offside rule is and everything! Liam explained it to me using Jaffa Cakes.”

“What?”

“The Jaffa Cakes were players, like. See, I’m a sports genius.”

Niall stares at him. “You do realise that the offside rule is in football, yeah? Not rugby? Totally different sport, Zayn.”

Zayn flaps his hand at Niall dismissively, “Bunch of men going after egg shaped ball, more violence, less teeth in mouths. Hands are welcomed. I know, Niall, I’ve got this.”

Niall bursts out laughing, head thrown back, “More violence, less teeth in mouths. Jesus, Zayn, I think that’s the best description of rugby I’ve ever heard.” Zayn winks, and does an attempt at finger guns that he regrets pretty much as soon as he’s done. It only serves to make Niall look more amused.

“Sports master,” Zayn says, again. Niall nods, seriously.

“Clearly,” He says. “Can’t wait for the match, babe!”

*

Standing in the arena - Zayn regrets all claims he made about his understanding of the game.

Bobby had offered to explain it all to him, but Zayn didn’t want to force Niall’s father into giving him a running commentary; he honestly didn’t think it would help much, either. Sporadically, Niall leans over, shouting into Zayn’s ear and trying to explain what’s going on.

Despite Niall’s best attempt, Zayn is lost.

It doesn’t help that it’s pissing rain, and Zayn is absolutely freezing. The only reason that he can see any of the action at all on the pitch is because the seats they’re in are actually really good.

The players themselves are splattered with mud, sliding across the grass and falling over as they run. Niall is standing beside Zayn, t-shirt pulled over his head like Cornholio, the hood of his jacket on top with a scarf wrapped around his face. He’s shivering something shocking, but his attention is laser focused on the match going on below. He definitely seems to be getting something more out of it than Zayn.

The only thing that Zayn has been able to figure out so far, is that Ireland are currently losing. He doesn’t even know this from the pitch, he can just tell due to the violent way Niall is gnawing on a hangnail and Bobby is cursing everything under the sun. Zayn is about to open his mouth and finally confess that he doesn’t even know the score – when his phone vibrates with a text.

He blinks, confused. Yesterday, if people back in the house wanted to ask him something – they’d just texted it to Niall, because he was the only one that could reply, due to his phones joint contract. Technically, traveling to Dublin from Belfast constitutes as crossing a border, which means that his mobile starts charging international rates. He pulls it out of his pocket, and blinks when he sees that it’s Perrie.

**How you doing, babe? Sorry for shouting at you, it’s just – you know you can tell me anything, yeah? I won’t be mad. Xx**

He blinks at the text for a few minutes. Beside him, Niall is freaking out about something that’s happening on the pitch – but Zayn is too preoccupied with the text to even ask him about what’s going on. Tapping away, he sends back;

**dunno what u mean babe, i tell u more than most ? xxx see u tomorrow tho**

He slides his phone back into his pocket without waiting for a response, and then stands up from the plastic seats. Wrapping himself around Niall, he leans into whisper.

“I have absolutely no idea what’s going on. Don’t even know the score.”

Niall smiles, pressing himself closer to Zayn’s front, “I can give you a running commentary for it, if you want. You did turn down my dad, though.”

Zayn laughs, pulls Niall almost impossibly closer to him. He follows the rest of the match like that, pressed against Niall, listening as he enthusiastically explains everything that’s going on.

*

Zayn sleeps a lot of the bus home, again – even though it’s just after midday when they leave. He doesn’t know why, shouldn’t be that tired – because he’d passed out almost as soon as he hit the bed, Niall wrapped tight around his back, breath heavy on his neck. Niall hadn’t woken him up until nine, either, chasing him out of the bed with threats that the hotel would stop the breakfast buffet before Zayn had eaten any.

Still, the second that he’s on the bus, he’s tired. Niall is chatting aimlessly beside him, Zayn’s hand clutched in his as he talks about how it was nice to see his dad, and how he’s delighted with the match. Talks about how nice it is that Bobby likes Zayn so much, because back in secondary school, he didn’t ever like Sean – even though Sean definitely spoke more.

“Maybe that was why he didn’t like him,” Zayn had said, sleepily. Niall had laughed, and then blinked at him.

“Shit,” He said. “You’re tired. Sorry, babe, I’ll let you sleep now.” He’d then proceeded to shove in his headphones, letting Zayn lean his head on his shoulder, and mouthing along to the lyrics of whatever tune he was listening to.

When Zayn wakes up, the bus is just pulling into the back of the Europa, and Niall is asleep too. Somewhere in the course of the journey, the two of them must have tipped over. Niall’s head is squashed against the window – mouth wide open and cheek smeared against the glass. He looks hilarious, and Zayn briefly considers taking a photo of him. Instead, Zayn smiles down at him fondly, nudging him awake.

Perrie and Louis are the ones waiting for them, leaning against Leigh and Jade’s car. Zayn looks at it, and then promises himself that one day he’ll give them some money for petrol, or get it cleaned for them, or something – because they definitely all take advantage of the car far too much to be okay.

The second that Niall catches sight of Perrie, he jumps away from where he’d been leaning against Zayn. He’d still been tired after getting off the bus, and so he’d buried himself under Zayn’s arm. Now, though, he looks as though he regrets it - glancing between Perrie and Zayn and frowning, brow set.

Zayn look at him, confused. He opens his mouth to ask if Niall’s okay, but he’s interrupted before he can.

“Alright, lads?” Louis calls. He’s walking towards them with his arms held open. “Harry and Liam are making a welcome home meal, or something. Well, Harry is. I think Liam’s just frowning at some vegetables and insulting my boyfriend’s hair.”

“You spend your life insulting Harry’s hair,” Niall replies, now buried in a hug from Louis, as though Louis hasn’t seen them in a month. Louis sticks his tongue out at him.

“You ever been woken up by a mouthful of hair in your face, Niall? It’s fucking grim, I’m serious. Also it’s so long now the curls are too heavy, you can’t see them properly.”

“You love it, Tomlinson,” Perrie says, shaking her head, Louis grins and shoves her in the arm.

“Shh, Edwards. People aren’t allowed to know that I have feelings. Anyway, how was Dublin? Good one?”

Niall lights up, going off yet again about the skill of the match – and the fact that Ireland won again, managed to pull it back from the brink with a couple of tries. Zayn watches him, small smile on his face, and Perrie slides up beside him.

“Did you have a good weekend, babe?” She says, wrapping an arm around his waist. Her hand settles on his hip, and Zayn starts, looking at her. He hadn’t noticed her approaching, too preoccupied with Niall.

“Yeah, it was nice.” He grins at her, and then says, louder. “Niall’s dad thought that me and Niall were dating.”

Instantly, Niall freezes, glancing at Perrie as though she’s going to freak out that his dad got the wrong idea. Naturally, Perrie bursts out laughing – head flinging back with the force of it. She looks at Zayn, and shakes her head, fondly exasperated with him. Louis, on the other hand, chokes.

“You what?” He asks, pulling open the back door of the car and letting Niall and Zayn clamber in. Perrie gets into the passenger seat.

“He thinks we’re dating. We had to share a bed the past couple of nights.”

Perrie is still laughing while Niall seems to have opted for looking out the window, as though the side street to the Europa hotel is the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. Louis glances at Zayn with the rear view mirror, pointedly.

“How do you feel about that, then?”

Zayn shrugs, leaning across the middle seat to tickle Niall, laughing at the way he jerks, “I don’t mind, like? I love Bobby. It’s nice that he likes me enough to approve of me dating his son.”

“Did you not correct him, then?” Perrie asks, and now she’s shooting Zayn looks.

“Uh, no? It seemed rude, like. He was the one that paid for the hotel, you know? Plus, it’s not really a big deal. Not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” Niall coughs, and Zayn turns to look at him, concerned. “You alright, babe?”

Niall opens his mouth, but snaps it shut when Perrie mutters, “Ridiculous,” under her breath, turning to Zayn and glaring at him again. Zayn is shocked – he thought Perrie coming to pick them up with Louis meant she was over their fight, but now she seems furious with him again. He doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong, here, but he doesn’t miss the way Louis’ eyebrows shoot up.

Louis is definitely going to want to talk about this.

“You wanna say something, Pez?” Zayn asks, he’s sitting behind Louis – otherwise he’d tap her, gently. As it is, Perrie just turns her head to look out the window as well as Niall. Apparently, city centre is particularly interesting today.

Louis heaves a dramatic sigh, but for once in his life, stays silent.

It’s an awkward car ride back to the house. The second that Louis pulls up on their street, Niall scrambles out with both his and Zayn’s bags. He doesn’t look at Zayn as he does so. Perrie isn’t long after him, running into the house like she’s on fire. Zayn watches her go, and sighs, unbuckling his seatbelt as though to follow her.

“Eh, no.” Louis says. “Me and you are going to leave this car back to its rightful owners, and then I’m going to make you talk.”

Zayn pauses. His hand is still on the door handle, and it would be easy enough to slip out and hide himself from Louis – but Louis is nothing if not persistent, and he knows that he wouldn’t last long avoiding him.

“Fine,” he says, sinking back into the seat. He glares at the back of Louis’ head, ignoring the smug looks Louis is shooting him in the rear view mirror.

Really, there’s no point in the two of them driving the car back to the girls – they live two streets over. Zayn is still tired from Dublin, though, the bus as well. Long car journeys always make him tired.

Louis doesn’t have much of an excuse for not walking, he’s just a lazy shite. Still, Louis navigates the car through the tiny streets of the Holylands, pulling up outside the house Jade and Leigh share with a few others.

There’s a space, but only because Jade and Leigh have been fighting for a year to claim it as their own. Niall was once called round to help them egg a car that had stolen their space at six in the morning.

“Go tell ‘em we’ve returned it, yeah?” Louis says, Zayn sighs.

“I’m just going to text Jade.”

Louis turns to stare at him, “You’re a lazy fucker. Can’t do that, anyway. You’ve got to give one of them back the car keys.” He punctuates this by dangling the keys from his finger, ginning at Zayn.

Zayn takes the keys off him, giving Louis two fingers for good measure. Louis doesn’t seem phased.

Banging on the door, there’s a few seconds before Ellie pulls it open. “Alright, Zayn?” She says, smiling. Her hair is wrapped in a towel, and she’s wearing a jumper dress. Zayn smiles at her.

“Heya, Ellie. Me n’Louis are just returning the girl’s car.” He points behind him at Louis, who salutes Ellie, winking. She grins at him.

“No worries, I’ll let them know. You coming over to ours this Friday? Ed’s trying to organise some big piss up with all the music ones, but I ruined it and invited a load of extra people. I texted Niall, he said he was definitely in.”

“Oh, did he?” Zayn frowns. “He didn’t mention it to me.”

“God forbid the two of you don’t talk about everything together. I only mentioned it to him about fifteen minutes ago,” Ellie says, but she’s still smiling. It’s clear she’s joking, and Zayn raises his eyebrows at her, fumbling in his pockets for a packet of cigarettes.

“Yeah, that’s me and Niall, like. Nothing ever goes unsaid, you know. We sit around in lingerie and have sexy pillow fights while we talk about our feelings.”

Ellie puts a dramatic hand over her heart, “Christ, Zayn. I just got out of the shower. I don’t want to need another one! Have mercy on me, babe.”

Zayn laughs, turning away from her to light his cigarette, “I guess I’ll see you Friday, then?”

“Yeah, and give my love to Niall, would you? It’s been too long since I was woken up by a six AM jam session between him and Ed.”

Zayn nods, waving a lazy hand at her as she shuts the door. When he turns around, Louis is looking at him, wide eyed.

“Jesus, Zayn,” He says. “What _is_ it with you and blondes?”

“They contrast nicely, innit?” Zayn says, not even resisting when Louis goes for his fag. He’s used to it by now. “I’m an artist at heart, Louis. You know how it is.”

“You’re a fucking faux poet,” Louis says, shaking his head. He stands at the end of Leigh and Jade’s street – so the two of them are now on the other side of the road from the river. It’s not a particularly nice day; the sky is entirely grey – too much cloud cover to see anything else. It’s not cold, though, and it’s not raining.

“Wanna go to the park and smoke by that stream?” Louis asks. Zayn shrugs.

“Yeah, alright.”

It’s only a few minutes to get to the park from where they are. The playpark is at the edge of the park – part of the grounds that belong to the university, as opposed to the park itself. The fence of the playpark is on the side running along the street. Louis clambers up onto the bin outside, and jumps the fence, because he’s a _child._

“There’s a gate right there you know,” Zayn says. Louis lands quietly on the grass and turns to Zayn, eyebrows raised.

“Not nearly as fun,” He says. Louis is incredibly adept at ignoring the disapproving glances the mothers are giving him. Zayn rolls his eyes, and, a second later is standing beside Louis.

“You don’t even want to be in the playpark,” Zayn accuses. It’s busy, because it’s a Sunday, and all the swings are taken up. The only reason any of them ever end up here is for the swings. Otherwise, there’s no point.

“Yeah, but it’s a nicer walk, innit?” Louis replies, lifting a hand to wave excitedly at a girl in a pink dress. She looks about six and has hoop earrings larger than the ones that Perrie normally wears in. She seems less than impressed with Louis, staring at him for a second with cold, blue eyes before giving him the finger. Louis doubles over, cackling.

“I love Belfast,” He says.

*

The stream where they normally sit isn’t really a stream anymore. Whoever’s job it is to cut back all the plants has clearly given up for this small section of the park, and, as a result it’s completely overgrown. There are weeds and tangles everywhere, and it’s marshland, more than anything.

Louis sits down on the concrete of one of the small bridges that cross over, and sighs. The bridge is so small that Louis’ legs nearly hit the end of it when he sits in the middle, and Louis is few inches shorter than Zayn. Zayn sits down beside him, the air around them changing, subtly. Zayn feels like a misbehaving child that’s about to get a stern lecture from his parent.

“What, Lou?” He asks, finally, and Louis looks at him for a few moments, eyes unblinking.

“Perrie’s mad at you,” He says, finally. Zayn heaves in a great sigh, and debates lighting a third cigarette. He’d finished the last one a while back, threw the tip into one of the bushes.

“Yeah, I know. Dunno why, though.”

“I do,” Louis says. Zayn whips round to stare at him, incredulous.

“You know why she’s mad at me, and you ain’t gonna tell me, bro?”

Louis shrugs, a tiny shift of his shoulders. There’s a wry smile playing at the corner of his mouth, “Harold says I interfere with other people’s business, too much. It’s not my secret to tell, though.”

“What, Perrie keeping things completely silent, now? Got you under lock and key?”

“Summat like that,” The two of them are silent for a while longer. Zayn kicks his foot against Louis’ leg, and laughs.

“Is that all you brought me out here for, then? ‘Pez is mad at you, and I’m not gonna tell you why’?”

“No!” Louis sounds genuinely hurt. “As if I would walk these whole seven minutes to sit here with you, only to talk about that. I have a good idea for, like, a plan.”

Zayn is intrigued. He and Louis haven’t hatched a plan since the start of second year, when Niall had been so fucking depressing about breaking up with Barbara – they’d done an elaborate, fourteen day long scheme to get him to smile again. It had worked, but they’d both declared it more effort than they ever wanted to dedicate to something again.

“What kind of plan?”

Louis grins, “A plan to fix the bloody mess you’ve made, Zayn Malik. If it doesn’t work, I’ll resort to desperate measures, that’s how sure I am of this plan.”

“How desperate is desperate?”

“I’d call your mum.”

Zayn whistles, low. Trisha adores Louis, and Zayn knows this – but for some reason, she’s got it into her head to fuck with him, a little. She spends most of her visits frowning disapprovingly at him and clicking her tongue. As a result, Louis spends most of the time she’s over hiding with Harry in his bedroom, or pretending that he actually wants to be writing a paper. The only reason Zayn is yet to put a stop to it, is because it’s fucking hilarious.

Louis Tomlinson, unafraid of everything – with the exception of Zayn’s mum.

“Shit, Louis. You’re proper convinced you’ve got it all sorted.”

“Yeah. Look, you know that art thing you’re doing, for the Golden Threads?” He says, and Zayn nods. “When’s the deadline, to submit all your art, like?”

“Next week. Why?” Zayn says, frowning. He doesn’t see what this has to do with anything.

“When does the exhibition go up?”

“Two weeks, they take five days to decide the winner, and then two days to put it all up, like.”

Louis claps his hands together, excitedly, “Brilliant, mate. Okay, so, look – all you have to do at the minute, is focus on getting Perrie to not be pissed off at you anymore. And also, do your art. You need to win this competition, bro. The whole plan rides on that.”

“What? Why?”

Louis simply stands up; brushing the debris from the plants and twigs sitting on the bridge has created off his clothes. Then, he holds out a hand to Zayn, who takes it and allows himself to be pulled to his feet.

“Just you wait, Zaynie,” Louis thumps him on the back, hard. “It’s gonna be incredible, leave it all to the Tommo.”

Zayn looks at him, wordlessly. Incredible might be one word for it. That’s Louis’ word, though.

Zayn is probably going to end up picking disastrous as his word.

*

“So that’s all he said?” Niall asks, he’s sitting on the floor in a corner of Zayn’s borrowed studio, holding some turf grass that Liam had got him to help with the art. “He said, you have to win the competition, and that you need to work on your relationship with Perrie?”

“Wouldn’t call me and Pez a relationship, like,” Zayn replies. He doesn’t look away from where he’s been splattering orange paint onto a canvas. This one has citrus fruit rinds stuck to it, and green orange and yellow quality street rappers along with trails of coloured tissue paper. He’s thinking about pouring some sand on it, as well. “Me and Pez aren’t even shagging anymore, haven’t in ages. Think her being mad at me has put a proper stop to that, too, like. Still don’t know why she’s mad, though.”

“Oh?” Niall says, and Zayn finally looks over at him. He’s unravelled the grass, now - and is walking across it in his bare feet, hands held out as though he’s balancing. “This is fucking weird, bro,” He says, grinning. “Like m’outside, but I’m not. Grass indoors, wild.”

“I’m thinking I want a, like, floor piece? I have no idea how I’m going to get all these to the Golden Threads, though. They’re all massive, and it’s like, a thirty minute walk.”

“I can ask someone to give us a lift, probably? There’s a kid in my music theory lectures – he’s got a trailer, like, for all his tech stuff when he’s doing gigs? Reckon I can give him a few quid and hook it up to Leigh and Jade’s car.”

“We should buy them a present, the amount we use their car.”

Niall nods, “Yeah, I’m thinking we should all chip in and buy them something amazing for their birthdays this year. Fancy perfume or something. I don’t know, I’m rubbish at presents. We could just give the money to Ariana, and she could buy it.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Have you even tried to text Perrie?” Niall asks, then, and Zayn sighs, putting his orange paint down and picking up the yellow, instead.

“Yeah, she replies, like. She’s not, I don’t know, she’s not proper mad. We still talk, and stuff? She thinks I’m not telling her summat, I think. Dunno what, though.”

“You got a big dark secret you’re hiding from us, Malik?” Niall says. He’s walking over to Zayn, now – hands tucked under his armpits, feet still bare. His hair is wild, sticking up all directions, and he’s cute. Niall is always cute, but especially now, standing in Zayn’s studio like he’s a part of it all.

“Yeah,” Zayn says. “Zayn Malik is just a ruse. My real name is Peter Parker.”

Niall’s lips part in a comical mockery of shock, “No _way_?” He says. “My real name is Tony Stark.”

Zayn looks at him for a few seconds, and Niall’s mouth twitches, “Tony Stark? Really? You’re more, like, I dunno. Clint Barton maybe.”

Niall mimes shooting a bow, one eye shut, tongue poking out of his mouth like he’s entirely focused. He grins at Zayn after, laughing when Zayn brings his hands together in a slow clap, dropping into a dramatic bow. “I’ll take Clint Barton,” Niall says. “He had a thing with Black Widow, didn’t he? She was fit, like, I’d take her home to meet my dad.”

“You can’t,” Zayn tells him. “He’d miss me too much.”

Niall starts at this, as if he’s surprised. He looks at Zayn for a second, before laughing, loudly. He shakes his head and says, “Christ, you’re a prick. C’mon, finish up in here so we can get back to the house. Louis texted, he says we’re all ordering pizza tonight, and having a house meeting.”

Zayn raises his eyebrows, following Niall out of the studio and locking it behind him. He’s covered in paint, and he sighs. All he’d been planning on doing tonight was taking an obnoxiously long shower, and not talking to anyone. He’s surprised about the meeting, though. They had stopped having house meetings after the first two tries both ended disastrously. After the first, Liam had gotten so angry at Louis he’d thrown all his clothes onto the street, and Louis had pissed in Niall’s trainers. The second had involved Barbara setting a tea towel on fire and Harry tipping a packet of cornflakes over Zayn’s head.

“Sounds serious,” he says. Niall shrugs.

“Yeah, I dunno. I just said that you and me would be there. You going to Ed’s thing on Friday, by the way?”

“At their house?”

“Yeah.”

Zayn nods, “Yeah, Ellie asked me the other day, when I was dropping back the car with Louis after Dublin. I always forget how nice she is.”

Niall laughs, “Yeah, I know, tell me about it. Ed, too.”

Zayn looks at Niall sideways, smirking. “You’d know, wouldn’t you?”

Niall laughs, “Hey, Ed and Ellie weren’t even properly together when I slept with her! He had no claim on her.”

“You’re a slag, mate.” Zayn says, bumping his hip against Niall. Niall smiles.

“Hey, now, I’d totally be willing to settle down, if the right person came along.” He sounds kind of wistful, kicking a little at the curb, and Zayn stops in the street, surprised.

Niall has always seemed perfectly happy doing his thing. He’s had hook ups with pretty much everyone in the music department, and then some. In saying that, it seems to have been working out pretty well for him. The only serious thing he’s ever had was his five month relationship with Barbara, which had been intense, dramatic – and ultimately disastrous.

“You got your eye on someone, Nialler?” Zayn asks, quietly slipping his hand into Niall’s.

“Something like that,” Niall squeezes Zayn’s hand, and looks sad for a moment – before saying, “Come on, I’ll race ya to the end of the road!”

*

When they get back to the house, everyone is piled into the living room looking at Louis. Harry is sitting, head on his hand, staring up at Louis dreamily – which isn’t a change. Jesy is lying, feet over Liam’s lap, head propped up against Perrie’s shoulder. Everyone looks very solemn.

“Mate,” Niall says. “If this ends in you pissing in my trainers again, I’m moving out. I’m serious, bro. I’ll move in with Ariana, if I have to. You know that she’d have me.”

Louis glares at him, “I’m not going to piss in your trainers.”

“Good, because they were fucking Nike trainers, Lou. Greg had got me them for Christmas, I still reckon you owe me the money for them, like.”

“I am _not_ going to piss in your trainers, Horan.”

Niall holds up his hands, slumping onto the beanbag on the floor and dragging Zayn down on top of him. Zayn “oofs,” before shifting around, finding a way to sit that doesn’t involve all of Niall’s limbs digging into him. He pauses when he realises that everyone in the room is staring at them.

“Uh,” He says, shifting against Niall again. Niall pokes him. “Sorry.”

“If you’re _quite_ finished.” Louis sniffs, looking down at the two of them.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re all here, babe,” Jesy says. “Everyone’s finished. You going to tell me why I’ve been dragged into this nonsense? I don’t think I’ve lived here long enough for this.”

“You’ve lived here half a year!” Liam exclaims, Jesy squints at him.

“I know, and in all that time you haven’t thrown a full house meeting, so I’m just trying to figure it out.”

“It’s about a car.” Louis says, they all stare at him. “I think we should all chip in, and buy a house car.”

“You called a house meeting because you want us to buy a car?” Liam looks confused, and Louis sighs at him exasperatedly.

“Yes, _Liam_. That, and Harry said I wouldn’t be able to get all of you in the same room at one time.”

Harry frowns, “I didn’t say that! I said you wouldn’t be able to get everyone in the same room _sober_ at one time.”

Perrie throws a pillow at him. “Watch it, Styles. I’m always sober.”

“Yeah, we know, Perrie. You can watch the rest of us make regrettable university decisions.” Harry says, turning away from Louis and grinning at her. She sticks her tongue out at him and he pulls a face right back.

“I’m serious about the car, guys!” Louis says, and Liam turns to look at him.

“Why do you want a car so much, Louis?”

“So that we can all drive to Zayn’s gallery opening in style.”

Zayn chokes. Niall thumps him on the back. “ _What_ ? Louis, there’s still two weeks left. Mate, I haven’t even won. Like, I’m probably not going to win. I’m an _English student_.”

Louis flaps his hand at Zayn dismissively, “Yeah, and Liam’s an engineering student but he’s still the best singer out of all of us. Anyway, this is all part of my master plan.”

Zayn barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. Liam doesn’t seem to be that successful. “I thought you didn’t do plans anymore, Tommo. You said they were too much effort.”

“This one is worth the effort, alright?” Louis snaps, and Jesy leans forwards, suddenly interested.

“Ooh, this sounds good. Imagine. Something that Louis’ gotten off his arse for.”

“I get off on Louis’ arse quite frequently,” Harry says. It’s almost absentminded, and there are a few moments of quiet, horrified silence.

“Well,” Niall coughs. “I don’t know about you, but that was almost worse than Louis pissing in my trainers.”

Louis’ cheeks are slightly pink, and he shifts, “You’re a prick, Harry.” He says, and Harry grins, blows him a kiss.

“Love you, babe. Now, tell us about the car that you want to buy for us.”

The plan – once Louis has finally managed to yell loud enough to let it be heard – pretty much seems to involve them all chipping in sixty quid and buying some old, beat up car off a kid in Louis’ performance class’ mum.

“This sounds like it’s going to be a shit car, Lou.” Liam tells him, but he’s already smiling in the way that means he’s given up on properly arguing.

“It’ll be the best car. The most beautiful car.”

“It’ll fall apart the second we try to drive it further than Ari’s house,” Niall cuts in. Louis gives him the finger.

“To think, Niall, that I thought I was being such a good friend to you, only for you to turn around and betray me in such a way like this,” He sniffs, wipes under his eye and puts a hand on his heart. Niall sighs, shifting around on the beanbag so that he and Zayn are sitting upright. Leaning forward, Niall rests his head on the back of Zayn’s shoulder, pulling a face.

“I’m very grateful for everything you do for me.”

“That’s what I thought,” Louis says, sounding satisfied. “Okay, on to the next issue. Well, asides from rent, which we’re apparently a week behind on –”

“We’re _what_?” Jesy says, back going ramrod straight. She stares at Louis in horror. “I gave you in my money, Lou. Have you lost it, or summat?”

“He makes this joke twice a year,” Liam says. “ _I_ paid in the rent. Don’t worry babe.”

“You’re a prick, Louis,” Perrie says, stroking Jesy on the arm in comfort. Niall snorts.

“Don’t tell him that, he lives to piss people off.”

“No, Niall. I live to have all the attention focused on me,” Louis tells him. “I can’t believe it; this is the second occurrence in such a short space of time in which you’ve failed to understand me. Does our friendship mean this little to you?”

Niall’s hands tighten around Zayn momentarily, and he hisses, “You _know_ how much I fucking appreciate you as a friend, Louis. Don’t even –”

“Anyway,” Zayn says, loudly. He only feels slightly bad about cutting Niall off, because at this rate, if he doesn’t, they’re all going to argue about Louis’ bad idea of a joke, it’ll escalate and they’ll never move on to what Louis actually seemed to want to talk about. “You had some other idea, Louis.”

“Oh, yeah. I also think we should all pool our resources together and buy an excessive amount of alcohol for the party on Friday. Come on, lads. It’s been too long since I got properly shitfaced.”

“You get shitfaced every Saturday!” Perrie exclaims. Louis rolls his eyes at her.

“No, I get _smashed_ every Saturday. I want to get _shitfaced_ at this one. There’s a difference, babe. It’s okay, you don’t drink – I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“I wouldn’t want to understand,” Perrie mutters, sinking further into the sofa. “Call me when you’ve all got fucked up livers and kidneys, I don’t care.”

“I feel very marginalised and oppressed, right now,” Liam says, and Niall cackles.

“Shut the fuck up, Payno. You never had a kidney problem, you tool. You were definitely lying about it.”

“I was not!”

“Mate, kidneys don’t just grow back,” Zayn says, Liam shoots him a hurt look, and he holds up his hands. “Still, if you have a magically curing kidney, who’m I to judge, like? Sounds pretty useful to me. How much alcohol do you want to bring to this party, Louis?”

“I’m thinking if we all put in a tenner – not you, Perrie, of course you don’t have to.”

“That’s sixty quid on alcohol, Louis. Do you want us all to fucking _die_?”

“Can you not handle your alcohol, Jesy, darling?” Louis says, sweetly. Perrie glares at him.

“Fuck off, I’m the one that works in a pub, innit? Think I hold it a hell of a lot better than you, Tesco wanker.”

Louis looks furious, “Well _sorry,_ I’ll just stop taking home half of the house’s food, yeah? You can starve, you ungrateful twat.”

“Fine.”

“ _Fine_.”

Zayn can’t help it anymore; he bursts out laughing. Both Jesy and Louis turn to stare at him, and Zayn says helplessly, “ _Tesco wanker._ ”

There’s a pause, before Louis and Jesy start laughing too, everyone else joining in after them. “Jesus Christ,” Niall says, “My ma doesn’t believe me when I tell her even half the stupid shit that you guys all say.”

*

On Friday, Zayn and Liam stagger round to Ariana, Ed, Jade, Leigh-Anne’s and Ellie’s house. Between them, they’re carrying two litre bottles of vodka, three barricks, a bottle of Rosé that Harry insisted on, and a fuck load of limes.

“Did you even buy tequila?” Niall asks, squinting at their haul. Liam had turned to Zayn, slowly.

“Knew there was leftover money for some reason,” Zayn said, “Run out and grab some, sure, Liam.” He chucked the remaining cash at Liam.

“Shit, man,” Ed says, staggering down from his bedroom. He’s in an oversized plaid shirt and Harry Potter pyjama bottoms Zayn is almost definite are from the girls section in Primark. “Are you sure that you have enough? I mean, that’s only enough for a small city, maybe.”

“We’re going to fucking die,” Jesy agrees, looking at it all. “I can’t believe I let Louis talk me into this.”

“You don’t really have much of a choice, like. When it comes to Louis he’s kind of mental, can’t really say no to him,” Zayn says, and Ed nods.

“It’s how we got together,” Harry said, nodding. Niall looks at him; eyes squinted, as though he doesn’t believe that story.

“You told me it was ‘cause you pissed on him accidentally in the toilets.”

“Well, _yes._ He hunted me down after, though. Wouldn’t stop talking to me, I was powerless to resist.”

“Don’t word it like that,” Louis says, coming into the room with Leigh-Anne beside him and grinning at Harry. “That makes me sound like a creep. I was just impressed with your curls, that’s all.”

Harry goes red, but he looks pleased. Turning to the rest of them, he stage whispers, “That’s not all he was impressed with,” then, “ _Hey_ ,” when at least four pillows from the sofa were thrown at him.

“Where’s Ari?” Niall asks, looking to Leigh-Anne. Leigh pointed behind her.

“She’s in her room, some big clothing stress, I don’t know. She told me to send you up though, babe. Something about how you’d knew how to help.”

Niall laughs, shaking his head, “She’s a prick. She knows I’m just gonna stand there doing nothing.”

Leigh shrugs, and Niall walks past her – giving her a brief hug as she does.

“Who all is coming to this thing, then?” Zayn asks, and Ed laughs.

“Christ, I have no clue. Ellie was the one that invited most people. Pretty sure that most of the music department are going to be here – we’ve got a composition thing coming up, like, so, you know –”

“Everyone’s doing everything they can to pretend that it doesn’t exist?” Jesy asks. Ed nods, and Leigh snorts at him.

“I wish you were pretending that it doesn’t exist, mate. All I’ve heard you talk about is your fucking song, and how you think it’s shite. Bro, at this stage I almost hope it’s shite, the amount of sleep you’ve made me lose over it. If I have to hear you sing about the fucking A-Team one more time I’m going to scream.”

“Niall hasn’t mentioned it to me, that much. Only said it briefly,” Zayn says, frowning. Leigh turns to look at him.

“Don’t worry about it, babe. I don’t think he wants to stress you out, because you’re doing your art thing at the minute, as well as all your actual schoolwork. I’ve heard his song, anyway, it’s incredible, he’s got nothing to stress about.”

“Yeah,” Ed nods. “He’s pretty much done, anyway,” He laughs. “His song is insane, like – almost made me cry.”

“Almost?” Harry says, “I did cry.”

“Yeah,” Louis nods from where he’s sprawled across Harry. “Me too. Like a fucking baby, or summat. I was worse than Liam’s mum.”

Zayn tries not to feel hurt, but can’t help it. “Has everyone heard this song but me? What the hell?”

Everyone in the room goes quiet, the silence stretching out with each passing second – becoming more and more awkward.

Zayn looks between all of them, waiting for someone to explain it all to him. It’s weird – normally he’s the first person that Niall goes to if he’s creating something, no matter how bad Niall thinks it is. Just like Niall has been there to see all of Zayn’s chicken scratch poems and terrible first drafts of essays, Zayn has seen all the scribbled notes and half formed lyrics.

“He probably just wanted it to be perfect for you, babe,” Leigh says, eventually, and everyone else nods. Zayn doesn’t really accept the answer, looking around the room, he sighs – realising that they’re not going to tell him anything else.

“Right, okay. Do you know when it’s a socially acceptable time in the evening to start drinking?”

Louis fishes his phone out of his pocket and looks at it for a second. “I think half seven sounds about right,” He says. Leigh cheers, moving to grab one of the litres of vodka.

*

Zayn’s well on his way to pissed when he sees Perrie standing in the kitchen. She’s talking to Jade, the two of them laughing about something. Liam’s sitting on the counter beside Jade – his chin is resting on the top of her head. It’s cute, in a sickening kind of way and he smiles, sloppily.

“Perrie!” Zayn calls, and she turns to look at him – face going through a few emotions, before she finally seems to settle on begrudging acceptance.

“Yeah, babe?” She asks. Zayn is vaguely aware of Jade and Liam finding a way to slip out of the room – but he’s too busy focusing on Perrie.

“You’re mad at me,” He says. “You’re mad at me and –” He stops, turns away to burp, and turns back to Perrie, apologetically. “Sorry. Drank too much. Too much vodka. Anyway, you’re mad at me, and I don’t know why.”

Perrie sighs, looking at Zayn softly, before she says, “I’m not, not really. I just. I don’t know, it was stupid of us to try out the friends with benefits thing.”

Zayn nods, trying to process it all. “Was I shit in bed, like?” He asks, and Perrie bursts out laughing.

“No one could say that to you, babe. Don’t worry. That definitely wasn’t the issue.”

Zayn frowns. If he wasn’t shit in bed, and Perrie isn’t mad at him – then he doesn’t know what the fuck has gone wrong. He tells her as much, and she sighs.

“How much of this are you even going to remember?” She asks, and he stops, thinks about it for a minute.

“All of it, I’m not even that bad – I swear. M’conscious enough that I can actively choose to remember this, at least.”

“I’m honoured,” Perrie says, dryly. It sounds nicer than she’s been towards him since Dublin though, so Zayn decides to take it as a good thing. “Look, I just – do you ever think that the only reason you slept with me was because you didn’t think that you could have someone else?”

Zayn is confused. “What, like who? You’re gorgeous Perrie. Fittest girl I know. Hell, I’d say you’re the fittest girl I’ve seen, even.”

Perrie smiles, looking pleased. Her hand runs through her hair and she looks away for a second, before turning back to Zayn. “Well, it’s nice that I wasn’t just some other option. Maybe, babe, maybe I wasn’t talking about a girl though. I mean, have you thought about any blokes recently?”

“I’m, well –” Zayn things about it, frowning. Right now, the only bloke Zayn knows now that he’d even _think_ about shagging would be Niall.

Back in their first year, when they were all getting to know each other – Zayn had some vague, undefined crush on Liam. He’d liked the way Liam smiled, and how he’d sit there and be quiet whenever Zayn needed him to. He’d liked how Liam wore plaid shirts, and how he used to steal hats off everyone else in the vicinity, and how knew all the words to every R Kelly song.

It had never come to anything, of course. Liam had been dating Danielle, and, at the time – they seemed like the sort of couple that were going to last forever. So, Zayn had left it – was over it in a couple of months, anyway, so it didn’t even matter. He’d just started spending more and more time with Niall.

Niall, who Zayn had thought was fit at first – but seemed a little American frat boy, all beer drinking and baggy clothes and poppy music taste.

As Zayn had started spending time with Niall, he’d picked up on other things, too. Picked up on the way that Niall, laughed with the whole upper half of his body, and smiled like sunlight. Niall, who invited Zayn to come to Dublin for the weekend, sorted out the whole trip – not minded at all that it was infringing on his alone time with his dad. Niall, who teases him gently, and falls asleep in Zayn’s bed. Niall, who asks him about his art, and writes songs, and spends his life cleaning up after the rest of them.

Niall, who found them the house in the first place. Niall, who held them all together easily. Niall, who waves at every person they pass, who effortlessly charms anyone within a five mile radius. Niall, who would give up on his hung over sleep to take a phone call from his parents. Niall, who’s never been further abroad than Spain, but taught himself how to say hello and goodbye in over thirty languages last summer. Niall, who once spent a whole hour talking to Jesy and Perrie about politics and feminism.

Niall, Zayn’s best friend. The prettiest guy that Zayn knows.

“Shit,” Zayn says, staggering slightly.

He feels like he’s just been punched in the ribs, and he looks at Perrie, horrified at himself. Horrified at how oblivious he’s managed to be.

“Fuck, I am so sorry. I never meant to, like, fuck you over or anything. I mean – I know we weren’t, you know, together or anything. I just? It was almost cheating, or summat. I mean, I know we weren’t exclusive, or whatever, but it was still a bit of a dick move for me to pull, like. ‘M sorry, Pez. Shit, you know you’re like, my favourite female, ever, yeah? Other than my mum. And sisters.”

Perrie smiles, and it’s full, now, all her teeth showing, eyes crinkling up. Something in Zayn’s chest loosens when he sees it.

She laughs, takes both of Zayn’s hands in her own and pulls him towards her, so that he has to look down to look her in the eye. “You massive twat,” She says, and it’s Zayn’s turn to laugh, now. “We’re alright, babe. You’re still my best lad, yeah? You’ll be the first to know when I find someone that’s not already hopelessly caught up on someone else. Now,” She kisses him on the cheek, and pushes him away. “Go find your boy, tell him you’re a moron. Go on! You interrupted my conversation with Jade. It was very important, you know. We were talking about make up. I mean, we were also talking about the upcoming election in America. Mainly make up, though.”

Zayn salutes her, sloppily. Then he blows her a kiss, and leaves to go find Niall.

*

He doesn’t find Niall in his quick scan around the house.

He does avoid a couple of students he’s pretty sure do sound engineering who look about three seconds away from shagging in the corner of a hallway. He also manages to sidestep some seedy guy he’s seen lurking about the law buildings that tries thrusting a handful of pills at him. Niall, however, isn’t anywhere to be found.

Instead – standing on the wall of the front yard, with Harry cheering him on, he finds Louis.

Louis is precariously balancing on the wall. Standing on one leg, his both arms are flung out to his sides as though he’s walking a tightrope. Ellie and Ed are out there, too. Along with a few other people that Zayn has seen before, but doesn’t know that well. They’re all sitting on a blanket, and at least three of them have guitars. Ellie and Ed are humming the circus theme, while the people with guitars are trying to play along with them as they get faster and faster. Louis is walking in time to their singing.

“You’re going to brain yourself, mate.” Zayn says, laughing. The wall isn’t that high, but it’s thin – and, with the way that Louis is staggering on it, he’s definitely not sober enough to be up there.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Louis says, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of Zayn’s voice and nearly overbalancing. “S’what Harry’s here for, he’s going to catch me if I fall, innit, lad?” He looks at where Harry is standing. Harry nods, eagerly, arms outstretched.

“Can Harry catch you now, then? I need to talk to you, bro.”

“Is it important?” Louis asks, and Zayn nods.

“I’d say so, yeah, mate. I’d even call it life changing. Me n’Pez had a talk, you know.”

Louis promptly falls off the wall.

Harry makes a questionable attempt to catch him. Louis fell onto the pavement, though – the other side of the wall from Harry, so there was never really any hope. “I don’t know what you wanted me to do, there, Lou.” Harry sounds amused, leaning over the wall to stare at where Louis is sitting on his arse, looking pissed off.

“Something more impressive than laughing at me, _Harold_. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, I have to talk to Zayn, now.”

“Way to ruin a perfectly good circus show!” One of the guys with a guitar says, Zayn shrugs.

“Sorry, mate. Play Creep by Radiohead or summat. You can get over it, like.” Zayn replies, and everyone in the circle laughs. The guy – Zayn thinks his name is Josh – gives him the finger, but he’s smiling as he does it. Ed winks at him.

“Come on then,” Louis says, grabbing Zayn by the arm and dragging him into the house. The house is still teeming with people, and Louis looks around for a while before pulling Zayn with him into a large cupboard.

The cupboard is pretty much empty, it only has a couple of brushes and a hoover in.

“What?” Louis asks, after there’s been a few seconds of silence. “No one is going to walk in on us in here.”

“I’m just taking a moment to celebrate the, what do you call it. I’m a bit gone, like. Can’t remember the word.” He looks at Louis, as though Louis will be able to tell him. It’s dark in here, though, and he can only make out the outline of Louis. They’re pressed so close together that he can smell the tequila and vodka on Louis’ breath – and he wrinkles his nose. “The irony, that’s it. The irony of, you know, of me and you in a cupboard. Being not straight, like.”

Louis doesn’t laugh, too busy staring at Zayn intently – the whites of his eyes slowly becoming more and more visible as Zayn’s eyes adjust to the darkness. “What did you and Perrie talk about?”

“Me being a twat, mainly.”

“Thought you said it was something you didn’t know before,” Louis replies. Zayn flicks him in what he thinks is the nose.

“Ow!” Louis says. “Fucker, that was my _eye_.”

“Sorry,” Zayn says, even though he’s not really.

“You’re a cunt,” Louis tells him. “Tell me what you talked about.”

Zayn is starting to regret his choice to tell Louis anything. He makes an attempt to get past, and escape the cupboard. Unfortunately, Louis grabs him before he can. “Fuck off, Louis. M’not sober enough for a realisation this dramatic.”

Louis leans even closer, and Zayn doesn’t need to see him to know that he’s got a massive grin on his face. One of the smiles that shows all of his teeth, one of the smiles that make him look proper mental.

“What did you realise, Zayn?”

Zayn laughs, trying to push Louis away from him. “Get off me, dick.”

Louis presses impossibly closer. “Not until you tell me what you realised.”

Zayn laughs, but it tapers off at the end. Here, in the dark of the cupboard Louis’ dragged them into – the whole situation seems bigger. More important. Significant.

The two of them stand there for a while, silent. Even in his less than sober state, Louis is waiting patiently for Zayn to catch up. Waiting for Zayn to speak. It’s always been one of the nicest things about him.

Eventually, he says, “Zayn?”

Zayn takes a deep breath in, and then lets it out. He sighs. “It’s nothing really, Louis. Just, I’ve been a bit of a twat when it comes to Niall, like. That’s all.”

“That’s all?” Louis asks, he sounds more delighted than Zayn has ever heard him. “Jesus, Zayn. I have been trying to get you to realise this for three years! Fucking hell, me and Harry thought you two would never realise. This is brilliant. This is fantastic. I can move on to the next stage of my plan, now.”

“You and Harry knew?” Zayn says, horrified. “How, mate? Does everyone know? Am I the last one to figure it out?”

“No,” Louis says, hand hitting off Zayn’s shoulder in a way that Zayn thinks is supposed to be comforting. “Just me, n’Harry, and Perrie, I guess. So probably Jade. I guess if Jade knows, then also Liam,” Louis pauses. “So Leigh-Anne would know too, and. Yeah. Yeah, yeah, babe. Everyone knows.”

Zayn stares at him – trying to show Louis how disgusted he is in the minimal light he’s been offered. “Why didn’t you tell me? Fuck, Lou. How did I not realise, like? I’m never leaving this cupboard. Tell Ed I’ll pay part of the rent.”

Louis laughs, presses a sloppy, alcohol induced kiss on the cheek. “You’re fine, babe. Don’t worry about it. Seriously. I have a plan, yeah? We’ll work it out.”

Zayn nods at him, uneasily, and Louis gives him another uncoordinated hug. “Chin up, lad,” He says. “This plan won’t fail, I’ve made sure of it.”

“I’m dubious.”

Louis just laughs, shrugging and opening the door of the cupboard. Clearly, he misjudged how much of his weight was actually against the door – because he half falls out, directly onto Niall and Ariana.

“Hey!” Ariana says, smiling, “We were actually just looking for you two!” She pauses, eyes flicking between the two of them. Niall is standing behind her, arms over her shoulders. He, too, looks confused. “Why were you in our airing cupboard?”

“Zayn was having issues,” Louis said. Zayn glares at him.

“Don’t say it like that. It makes me sound mental, or summat. You know, like I took that guy up on his offer of pills. You were the one that dragged us in the cupboard, Lou.”

“I wanted privacy.”

Ariana laughs. “You were in the airing cupboard because you wanted privacy?” She stops, then, eyes narrowing as she takes in the rest of what Zayn had said. “Wait, _who_ offered you pills?”

“I don’t know, Phil? Phillip? Summat like that. He’s always by the law buildings.”

Ariana looks furious, whole face warping into an expression so terrifying that Zayn reminds himself to never get on her bad side.

“I’m going to kill Ed, he said that he was alright,” She half growls, turning away from the two of them.

“Go destroy him, Ari, babe!” Niall calls after her retreating figure. She’s storming up the stairs, tiny hands balled into fists. Zayn whistles, lowly.

“Your girl is fucking terrifying, Horan.” He says, Niall turns to him, smiling.

“Not my girl. Christ, can you imagine someone trying to put a claim on Ariana? She’s above all that.”

Zayn shrugs, smiling. “You could probably convince her, Niall. You could get anyone you wanted, like.”

“You hammered?” Niall says, he’s going red – turning his gaze away. Zayn smiles at his obvious discomfort. He still finds it adorable how bad Niall is at taking compliments.

“No, only had a few drinks, like. Was talking to Pez for a bit, then Lou. Haven’t really had a chance to get hammered since then, like.”

Niall’s mouth quirks, he holds his hand out towards Zayn. “Want to?”

Zayn looks at the offered hand, and takes it, squeezing. He thinks, standing right there – that this could be a moment, were they different people. Thinks about how this could be the time that he pulls Niall to him, tell him that he’d been an idiot, that he’d talked it over with Perrie.

It _could_ have been that moment – had Liam not taken the opportunity to stumble past him wearing a pair of heels that seemed to be more than just a few sizes too small for him, and a pink dress that barely hit the bottom of his arse, stretched tight across his shoulders. Niall takes one look at him, and bursts out laughing.

“You got underwear on, Payno?”

“It’s all _Jade’s_ ,” Liam hisses. “Well,” He looks down. “Some of it might be Leigh’s too. Wasn’t really listening.”

Zayn stares, looking at Liam. His eyes are bloodshot, and he’s practically swaying in his place. Beside him, Niall is still shaking with laughter, leaning against Zayn to hold him up. “You’re wearing Jade’s underwear?”

Liam nods, and nearly over balances in the heels. Zayn reaches out a hand to steady him, finding it harder to keep his own laughter in, looking at the complete mess Liam is.

“You lose a bet, or summat?”

“Odds,” Liam said sadly. “I said between one and ninety eight, me and Louis both said thirty four,” He pauses, looking considering, “M’not supposed to make bets with Louis, he knows me too well.”

“Come on,” Niall says. He seems to have pulled himself together enough to look at Liam without laughing, but his mouth is still twisted in a smile, and he looks as though he’s seconds away from crying with it all. “Let’s get you a seat, Payno. And a camera. We should definitely get you a camera.”

Niall meets Zayn’s eyes over the top of Liam’s bowed head, one of Liam’s arms draped over his shoulders. Zayn pulls a face at him, and Niall laughs – pulls one back.

Together, the two of them drag Liam off to find somewhere to sit down.

*

Zayn wakes up in Liam’s bed, with his head pounding, and his stomach rolling. It takes him a few seconds to figure out that it is, indeed, Liam’s bed he’s in – mainly because his view is obscured by the large pile of bodies sharing with him. When he tries to slide away, he gets jabbed painfully in the side.

“Don’t move,” Jade says, “I’m sleeping on you.”

“I’m suffocating under you, babe. I feel like shit. C’mon, let me out, or I might hurl on you.”

There’s a collective groan, and the sound of people shifting as Leigh manages to move off Jade, who, in turn, moves off him. Finally untangled from the bed, he looks back at the heap of people, and says,

“Thanks guys.”

Someone gives him the finger, and there’s a vague mutter of, “Fuck you, Zayn.” He’s not sure who said it, though – it could be Liam, but it might also be Harry - so he figures it’s not even worth reacting to.

Traipsing down the stairs, he can hear Niall and Louis having some kind of argument in the kitchen. Zayn pauses, surprised – it’s unlike Niall to argue with anyone, particularly Louis. The two of them have a kind of big brother, little brother relationship that mainly involves Louis bothering Niall, and Niall laughing about it like it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

He stands there, on the second to last step, listening. His bare feet are freezing, and the house isn’t exactly warm, but he’s curious.

“Leave it Louis, it’s _fine_.”

“It’s not fine, Niall. You’re all mopey. This isn’t normal for you, mate. You’re normally bouncing off the walls – laughing at everyone even if you’re hanging as hell. This isn’t natural, c’mon bro, talk to him, at least.”

“It’s not like he’s going to remember. You saw how fucked he was last night, proper hammered. M’shocked he didn’t vomit, to be honest.”

“It’s still worth _asking_ him, Niall. I’m serious; talking is good. You might be surprised what you find out.”

“Yeah, I’ll find out that he’s engaged to marry her, or something, and that I’m just a dick for getting in the way.”

There’s silence for a few seconds, then, and Zayn can’t see Louis’ expression, but he doesn’t need to when he hears the way he says, “Oh, _Niall_.”

There’s shifting, then. A chair squeaks on the floor as though it’s been pushed back – and Zayn is starting to feel increasingly guilty for the way he’s just hovering, listening in on a conversation clearly not meant for him.

He thumps down the last couple of stairs with enough weight that they’ll know he’s coming, despite how much it doesn’t help his headache. Pushing his way into the kitchen, both Louis and Niall freeze when they see him.

“Y’alright, lads?” Zayn asks, “There any paracetamol knocking about?”

Louis wanders over to one of the cupboards – grabbing a packet and chucking it over to him. Zayn fumbles, but manages to catch it, smiling at Louis gratefully. There’s still an odd silence permeating the air – and Zayn glances between the two of them, tablets going limp in my hand.

“Oh shit,” He says. “I did something stupid last night, didn’t I?”

He can’t remember much of it. He can remember the conversation with Perrie, the realisation – the moment that it all clicked together. He can remember blurting everything out to Louis when the two of them were standing in Ariana’s cupboard, Louis grinning and telling Zayn that he had a plan.

He can remember Liam wandering past, wearing Jade’s clothes, and Niall dragging him downstairs yelling, “Shots!” in his ear, and the bitter taste of tequila being chased down with lime.

He doesn’t really remember anything after that.

Louis coughs, says, “How pissed were you, last night?” And Zayn looks at him, rubbing a hand to his temple and trying to lessen the feeling that he’s going to hurl up the last remains of alcohol in his system. He’s almost definite he was probably around one badly mixed drink away from needing his stomach pumped, last night.

“I remember everything up to Payno walking past wearing a skirt, and then going downstairs. Then Niall said summat about shots. Then there were shots. After that it’s all black, like. You know I can’t cope with it when they bring out tequila, lads. Why?”

Niall goes kind of pale when Zayn says this – but it’s nothing like his natural pale. His skin goes kind of blotchy, patches of pink in it – like his face sometimes goes seconds before he’s about to cry. Zayn studies him, trying to figure out if it’s just because Niall was hungover – or if there was something specific that happened last night.

From the way that both Louis and Niall are still standing, awkward and silent - he’s willing to bet that it was the latter option.

“Seriously, guys,” He says, when no one has spoken for a ridiculously uncomfortable few moments. “You’re freaking me out. Whatever I said, tell me, yeah? I reckon I’d do the same for you two, like. S’not fair you keeping secrets.”

Niall coughs, shrugs his shoulder once, awkwardly. “It’s nothing, mate,” He says. “Don’t worry about it. Look, I, um,” He coughs again, brings up one hand and starts chewing on his nails.

Zayn watches him, trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with him. Niall is avoiding eye contact, looking everywhere else around the room but at Zayn. Zayn can feel the bottom of his stomach drop out. “Niall?” He asks.

Niall shifts, awkwardly, from one foot to the other. “I have somewhere to be, yeah? Got this thing, I need. I um, have a lecture and stuff. Thanks, Lou,” Niall trails off, not even trying to come up with excuses for Zayn anymore, he just wanders out of the kitchen, half-hearted wave thrown behind him.

A second later, the front door closes shut.

Zayn looks at Louis, eyes wide and panicked. This reaction, from Niall – it’s not just upsetting, it’s a genuine reason for concern. Niall has been Zayn’s friend throughout all of university. He’s seen him do some pretty horrendous things, and heard about all the rest. For Zayn to have messed up something so bad that Niall won’t even look at him, he’s done something pretty fucking terrible.

Louis sighs. “Come on,” He says. “Let’s go get a coffee.”

“I don’t want a coffee.”

“A hot chocolate, then, you grumpy shite.”

*

Louis practically drags him the whole way to Clements, shoving Zayn onto the sofa in the corner and squeezing down beside him. He orders Zayn a large hot chocolate with whipped cream, and himself a mint chocolate chip milkshake, and then turns to Zayn, expectantly.

“Alright,” Louis says. “You can talk now.”

Zayn shakes his head, looking down at the table in front of him. “Don’t reckon I want to talk, like, mate. I’d want to know what the fuck I did that’s got Niall so freaked out you won’t even look at me.”

Louis looks at him, for a few moments – his body fully turned into Zayn. It was always one of the nice things about Louis, that no matter how high maintenance he is, no matter how keyed up and distracted he could get – he could put all of his attention on one person. You only had to see him around Harry to fully appreciate it all.

Right now, however, Zayn would give anything for Louis to look away. Louis holds his gaze, and says,

“You snogged him, mate.”

Zayn freezes. All of the blood in his body runs cold. His hands, of their own accord, start shaking.

“I,” He pauses, chokes a little. Tries again. “I _what_?”

“Snogged him mate, proper. Grabbed him by the waist and leaned in and kissed him.”

Zayn doesn’t know what to say. He sits there, silent for long time. It’s long enough that the waiter – a hipster wannabe, with long hair piled into a bun and a beard that probably isn’t hygienic for a job involving food – comes to put their drinks down on the table.

When he walks away, Louis pokes him in the side and says, “Drink your hot chocolate, I didn’t shell out my hard earned Tesco money for you to not indulge in the gifts I’m buying you.”

“You’re just trying to flatter me,” Zayn says. It’s a terrible joke, doesn’t even make sense, really. Louis laughs anyway, and nudges him again, smiling when Zayn takes a hesitant drink.

“There you go, Zayn! Drink all the hot chocolate. You’re right, you caught me. I am trying to flatter you. It’s for Harry – I don’t think he’s satisfied with our sex life. This is my way of inviting you for a threesome.”

The woman at the table near them glances up from her phone, looking startled. Louis catches her eye and waves, obnoxiously. He winks at her too, laughing when she flushes red and turns back to her phone screen, untucking her hair from behind her ear, creating a curtain between them. Zayn can’t help it, he snorts, as well.

Leave it to Louis to make him laugh, even in the peak of his panic.

“You’re a dick,” He says, but he’s smiling. Louis nods, sagely.

“Yes. I’m a dick, but not as much as you. Anyway, I figure Liam’s going to be pretty easy to convince to have sex with me, because Harry keeps complaining that we’re half married already. So, if I get you to agree to have sex with us, then it won’t be that much more effort to get Niall involved too, eh? I mean, who knows, couple more drunken snogs and you two could be the new power couple of the house.”

Zayn blanches, the very thought of him and Niall together, him and Niall a _power couple_ , is too much. Louis must see his look of panic, because he smiles – but it’s small. He leans his head on Zayn’s shoulder and says, quietly, “Too soon for jokes?”

Zayn shakes his head. “I just, what the fuck am I going to do? Does he hate me now? I mean, I know he’s not, like, straight or whatever – but that’s different to some bloke that you don’t even fancy snogging you. I mean, did he say it was okay? Did I ask permission? Like, how bad have I fucked this up, Lou, you know what I mean? He’s my best mate. I can’t have fucked it up this bad.”

“Hey,” Louis says, pulling away from Zayn and grabbing his face in between his hands. “You haven’t fucked it up, yeah? It’s Nialler. He can’t hold a grudge to save his life, and he did kiss back, if you’re really worried about that.”

“I don’t know,” Zayn mutters. He feels close to tears. “He might be able to hold a grudge over me snogging him when I’m so fucked I can’t even remember it. Like, he’s still pretty upset about you pissing in his trainers.”

Louis laughs. “Look at it. Zayno’s got jokes! Anyway, that’s beside the point. Niall might be able to hold a grudge against _me_ , but he ain’t going to hold one against you, lad.”

“Why?”

Louis pulls away from Zayn. His eyebrows are raised, and he mutters, “Jesus _Christ_ , you’re so stupid I almost don’t want to do this for you two anymore. Look, I’ve got a plan, yeah? It’s all going to be sorted – all you need to do is win your fucking art thing. Then Louis will sort all the rest of it for you. I will solve all your problems, and then you will buy me many pints and shower me in praise.”

“What makes you so sure I’m going to win this art thing?” Zayn asks. Louis’ eye twitches.

“Mate, if you bloody don’t, I will turn up to the Golden Threads gallery and fucking bribe them with cold hard cash until you do win. I met a bet with Harry on this. I’ve got a whole month of sex resting on it.”

“You made a bet on me winning a slot in an art gallery?”

“No, I made a bet on my plan working, and my plan rests on the gallery. Come on, how long have you got until all your pieces are due in?”

“Not long. Couple of days, just. Monday, like.”

“You finished?”

“Think I would have gone on a piss up last night if I wasn’t? I’ve been finished for ages.”

“Good, fantastic. You’ll win then.” Louis smacks him on the shoulder, and Zayn nods, takes another drink of his hot chocolate.

“Does Niall really hate me, like? I mean, we always joked around with it. I could just say it was a joke or –”

Louis thumps him on the back of the head. “Do _not_ go and tell Niall that you kissing him was a fucking joke, oh my god. It wasn’t a joke – you’re not going to start lying to him, mate. That’s not how good friendship works.”

“Don’t think our friendship is working at all, at the minute.”

Louis heaves a massive sigh, taking a drink of his milkshake. It’s rather impressive how he manages to have his mouth around the straw, and yet still look as though he’s frowning at Zayn. “You should have been the drama student, not me.” He says. Then his eyes go wide, and he bounces away from the seat. “ _Shit_ , I have a rehearsal today. I promised the lads I wouldn’t be late.”

He darts forwards, pressing a kiss to Zayn’s cheek, and leaving a fiver on the table. “I’ll pay you back the rest, got to go, ta, love! Don’t talk to Niall unless you’re sure you won’t fuck it up! Do your art!”

When he leaves, the woman that had been looking at her phone stares at Zayn again. “Is he always like that?” She asks. Zayn shrugs.

“Pretty much, yeah. You get used to it.”

“Really?” She asks. Zayn thinks about this for a moment.

“No.”

*

Zayn is a little worried about how he’s going to move his massive canvases to the Golden Threads. They’re huge, and heavy – and really, he needs a van, or at the very least a trailer, for anything to happen with them.

Before, it had been Niall that said he would get it sorted – but now Niall isn’t talking to him, and Zayn really doesn’t think that sliding up to him to demand a favour in the middle of everything would help anyone.

“I can get it done for you,” Ellie says dismissively. She’s walked into her kitchen, and overheard Zayn asking – rather desperately – if he knew anyone that could help. “Niall was probably going to ask me anyway. He normally comes to me for favours; I’m kind of his fairy godmother.”

“Thought that was Ariana?” Zayn jokes, but it’s weak. Ellie pulls a face at him for his efforts.

“God no, keep up, Zayn. Ariana is his guardian angel. We sorted this all out towards the end of first year, man. I think Niall was a couple of drinks away from getting us t-shirts printed, at the time.”

“Niall’s angels?” Ed says, laughing. Ellie shrugs, looking unbothered.

“Yeah, I think that was the design. What can I say? He’s got a talent for making people like him,” She winks, and laughs at Ed’s scowl.

“Tell me about it,” Zayn says, sighing. Ellie looks at him, frowning as though she’s just remembered something. Eyes narrowing, she reaches her arm out, and then thumps him – hard - on the shoulder. It hurts. A lot.

“That’s for emotionally distressing him with your snogging skills by the way.”

Zayn winces, rubbing his shoulder. “He told you about that?”

Ellie nods. “He tells me everything. Sort of. He tells Ariana everything. I’d avoid her, by the way. She’s proper mad at you, mate. Not that I blame her. You really went and messed up our Nialler over that, like. I can’t believe that you’d forget about your first kiss with him. I mean, I wouldn’t forget something like that.” She grins, “Didn’t, in fact. I think about it. Frequently.”

Ed looks up at her, pointedly. “I try to forget about that. Frequently.”

Ellie flaps a hand at him. “Please, you wrote one of your best songs about it, I’m your muse, darling. Anyway, we’re not talking about that, now. We’re talking about how Zayn messed up how hard Niall was trying.”

Zayn chokes. “Trying hard with what?” He asks, and Ellie stares at him.

“To get over the fact that he’s arse over tit in love with you? It’s obvious, Zayn, darling – you have to see the way he looks at you. I mean, in first year he turned Ariana down when she wanted to, like, _date_ him – because of you, Zayn. It’s always been a thing.”

Zayn stares at Ellie, glancing at her – then to Ed. Both of them seem serious, though. Ed nodding – before returning his attention to the guitar in his lap, and Ellie sitting there, holding his gaze. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say. The floor beneath him feels like it’s warping – his head is spinning. The concept of Niall feeling the same way that Zayn does is almost laughable.

Except it isn’t. It isn’t laughable at all.

“Shit,” Zayn says. “I don’t even – I can’t even _remember_ the kiss. Like, how shit am I?” He shuts his eyes, sinking forwards so that his head is resting on the table in front of him. 

“It’s okay,” Ellie says, patting him on the shoulder comfortingly. “We’ve all been roped into following Louis’ plan, now. I reckon if you two don’t get together after this – then you were never meant to be.”

“Is everyone in on it?” Zayn asks, slightly terrified to find out the answer. Ed looks up from his guitar, apparently still paying attention to the conversation.

“Everyone but Ariana, sort of. I don’t know. Is keeping Niall distracted part of the plan?” He directs the last part of the sentence to Ellie, and she nods.

“Yeah.”

Ed turns back to Zayn, shrugs and says, “Then, yeah, everyone is in on this plan. We all think you’re adorable, lad.” He grins, reaching forward and patting Zayn on the cheek. Zayn bats him away, and Niall laughs. “C’mon, now. Stop looking so sad, we’re all trying to help.”

“It would help if you told me what was going on.”

Ellie smiles, “I would love to help you, Zayn, babe – only Louis claimed that bit for himself. Don’t worry about it, yeah? Just know that we’ve got you covered for moving the paintings.”

Zayn sighs, and Ellie pats him consolingly on the arm – until Ed says, gently, “Babe, you’re picking up in ten minutes,” And she makes a mad dash out the door – pulling her shoes on as she goes. Zayn waves her out the door.

*

If Zayn had known that it would be this much effort to move his canvases, he wouldn’t have painted them in the first place. It’s been a full week, now, since Zayn drunkenly snogged Niall at the party – and neither of them have really spoken since. Their conversations all awkwardly grind to a halt, stilted between other people in the house. He doesn't know what he's supposed to say to bridge the gap between them, but he does know that he dislikes it - hates the way that the two of them are growing apart. 

“I hate you,” Louis says, from where he’s struggling to hold up the corner of one. Harry is standing on top of the trailer Ellie managed to borrow, laughing at Louis.

“Pivot,” He says, “ _Piiiiivot_.”

“I’ll pivot my fist into your face, Harry.”

Jade turns around then, frowning at him. “That’s an abusive relationship, Louis. I don’t condone that.”

Harry sticks his tongue out at her. “You can’t talk,” He says, “I saw Liam’s neck! It looked as though he was eaten by a vampire. Or worse, even. A werewolf, maybe.”

Jade just smiles, helping Louis shove the last bit of the canvas up and onto the trailer. “The one’s on his neck weren’t me,” She replies. “Blame Leigh for them, like.”

Zayn stares at her. Then, he glances to where Leigh has been sleeping in the passenger seat of the car for the past twenty minutes. She’s gorgeous, almost unspeakably so. Jade is, too. “Mate,” Zayn says, turning to Liam. “How did you do it?”

Liam laughs, and the shrugs, “Dunno,” He says. “Accidentally, mostly. Lot of vodka.”

Jade laughs, “I’ll drink to that,” She says, then. “Christ, Zayn. How many more of these do you have left?”

“Too many,” Louis says, and lies down on the pavement, arm flung over his eyes. “It’s too much for me. Go on without me.”

“No!” Harry says, jumping down from his spot and crouching beside Louis. He turns to Zayn, faux glare on his face. “How could you? My one true love, gone! Forever!”

“Jesus Christ,” Zayn sighs, shoving his face into his hands. “You’re all fucking morons.”

“Do you want our help or not, Zayn?” Jade says, pointedly. Zayn holds up his hands in defeat.

“Sorry, sorry. There’s only one more, anyway.”

“Thank Christ,” Louis mutters, from where he’s still lying on the pavement. Harry aims a soft kick to his side.

“Stop being so dramatic, you only helped with one canvas.”

“The biggest one.”

Harry shrugs, “You don’t normally have a problem with things being big.”

Liam snorts, shaking his head. “God, you two are ridiculous.”

“You love me Liam,” Louis says. Liam looks down at him and sighs, rather dramatically.

“I question it sometimes.”

“It’s okay,” Harry drapes himself over Liam’s back, arms squeezing tight around his waist. “I know you never question your love for me.”

“I’m questioning my love for all of you,” Zayn sighs. “Come on, please? I need to get these all in before the end of the day – or else I won’t even get entered.”

“Yeah, you do,” Louis says. “You need to enter, and then you need to win, so that my plan can work and Harry and I can go back to our lives as they used to be.”

“I’m looking forward to that, too,” Harry says. “Believe it or not, it’s a lot harder to have sex when you’re spending the whole day hanging around with Niall. I mean, we could invite him, but I don’t think you’d like that anyway, Zayn.”

“Not particularly.”

“Well, neither would I,” Louis scowls. Harry just laughs, putting his arm over Louis’ shoulders and pulling the two of them together, grinning even more at the disgruntled look on Louis’ face.

“If you’re quite finished,” Liam says. Harry sticks his tongue out at him, so does Louis. “Come on, guys,” Jade says, loading the last canvas into the trailer. “We’re done, okay? We can all chill out now.”

“Well,” Liam grins. “Except for Zayn and Louis. They’re the ones moving the pieces into the gallery. Alone.”

“ _What_?” Zayn says, shocked. He had no idea that everyone was planning to pull out after the first part. Liam cackles.

“I’m never playing odds with you again,” Louis says, sadly.

“I had to get you back for the clothing incident at some point, Louis,” Liam tells him.

*

“You need to tell me what the plan is, bro.” Zayn says, to Louis. The reality of their moving situation has finally set in, the two of them desperately trying to get the one canvas into the doors of the Golden Threads gallery.

This one in particular is a lot heavier than Zayn realised. It’s the biggest one – the one that’s supposed to be the statement piece, and it’s done in shades of yellow, orange and green. It has yellow feathers, and pressed flowers, and an entire section made out of seeds. Holding it up is taking a lot more effort than either Zayn or Louis can really handle.

“Why do you need to know?” Louis snaps. Zayn doesn’t take his irritation to heart – he looks just as fed up with moving pieces into the gallery as Zayn is, his hair sticking to his forehead underneath the beanie.

“Well, if this is your great plan to get me and Niall together – it would kind of help if I was in on it, yeah? So I could, like, properly do my bit, or whatever.”

Louis shuffles backwards, still holding up one half of the canvas, “Jesus,” He says, shifting his head and wiping his forehead on the sleeve of his shirt. “We should have got Liam and Harry to come do this bit, the two of them have some actual muscle, unlike our noodle arms.”

He hoists the canvas up the step to the entrance, Zayn staggering with the other end shortly after. Deirbhile, the main artist of the gallery, is standing, watching them.

“Wow,” She says. “I think you have the most of anyone that’s entered?”

“Is that a good thing?” Zayn asks, and she grins.

“Well, it’s a decent sized gallery, isn’t it? Be nice to have something to fill all the space.”

Zayn smiles at her. Deirbhile has been lovely, so far – a round woman, her hair so dark brown it almost looks black, and an accent not that far off Niall’s own. She has the widest smile that Zayn had ever seen, and she talked more with her hands than with her mouth. Zayn thought she was fantastic – he kind of wanted to draw a picture of her.

“So,” Louis says, thunking his end of the canvas down. Zayn struggles for a minute, before manages to tip the painting so that it’s propped against the wall. “When will you have decided that Zayn’s the winner of this thing?”

Deirbhile laughs, “You seem pretty confident that he’s going to win.”

“He has to,” Louis says. “He needs this gallery so that he can tell the boy he’s in love with that he’s in love with him. I mean, all of these paintings are about him.”

“That’s not true!” Zayn says, feeling embarrassed – especially with the way Deirbhile is now looking at him. Louis turns to him, eyebrows raised.

“Zayn,” He says, like he’s speaking to a particularly stupid child. “That one, the biggest one, is literally done in the colours of Ireland. I mean, when did you finish that one?” He points to the canvas the two of them just finished carrying in.

Zayn looks at it for a moment, and then shifts, shrugging awkwardly. “The week we got back from Dublin.” He says - Louis smirks knowingly, and Zayn feels instantly defensive.

“It’s the colours of Ireland, so what? It’s not, like, an ode to Niall Horan. Ireland and Niall do exist on separate levels, you know.”

“Sure, of course it’s not, Zayn. It’s totally not covered in happy, sunny things in the colours of Ireland, done right after you spent a weekend with Niall pretending to be his boyfriend.”

Beside them, Deirbhile cackles. “Jesus, I’d forgotten what it was like being your age, you mentalists. Tell you what, if Mr Malik here doesn’t win – I’ll see to it myself that he gets a wee slot in gallery one at some point. I’m a big believer in grand gestures, what can I say? Anyway, I’ll leave you two lads to shift the rest of the stuff in. Let me know when you’re leaving, alright?” She says, walking into her office.

“Grand gestures,” Zayn says, when she’s gone. “How grand are we talking, like?”

“I was thinking we’d sneak the key to the gallery for one of the days of your exhibition, get Liam to kidnap Niall and drive him here, or, you know, get Leigh-Anne and Jade to drive him here. Anyway, you’ll have, like, your paintings and your face and a big speech – you’re an English student, you can write a big speech, and then Niall will forgive you for being a drunken knob, and I won’t have to listen to him sound sad ever again.”

“How many times you been in the room when Harry’s been playing his chick flicks, Lou?” Zayn asks.

“Babe, Harry hadn’t even seen The Notebook until he met me. What do you think?”

“I think it’s not gonna work.”

“And I think you should listen to your mates when they tell you that you’re too pessimistic, love. Niall loves you, you love him – you managed to get your head out of your arse enough to realise fucking Perrie wasn’t beneficial. Life is going in the right direction, yeah? Whole world at our feet, innit?”

“You’re a sap,” Zayn says, poking Louis in the neck. “Who would have thought it? Tommo, a soft touch, like.” He grins at the way Louis flinches, and then scowls at him.

“I’m not! I have a heart of stone. Nothing can penetrate me. Well, not my heart, anyway.”

“Do you want me to make a dick joke?” Zayn asks. Sometimes it’s better to check, with Louis. Louis waves his hand.

“No, I already made it, Zayn, keep up. Come on, how many more of these godforsaken paintings am I going to have to carry?”

“There’s two more,” Zayn tells him. “But they’re smaller, like. Should be easier.”

“Good. I swear, Malik, if I don’t get some muscles from this then I’m going to wait outside the biology building and complain to every student that walks out about the flaws in the human body.”

“Same, bro.”

*

“So,” Harry says, grinning at the two of them when they get back to the house. “How did your brief foray into being moving men go?”

“I’m never moving again.” Louis says, throwing himself onto the sofa Harry’s sitting on and dropping his head into Harry’s lap. “Be that things or my body. You can go on without me. That was terrible. Zayn is a fucking dick.”

Zayn slouches into one of the armchairs in the corner of the room. Sinking into it, he nods, “You should’a been there, Haz. You’re definitely more equipped to move things than me and Lou.”

Louis nods, “Yeah, I mean, you go to the gym twice a week, Harry. You could have offered your assistance.”

Zayn raises his eyebrows at Louis, looking over at him. “Thought you went to the gym with Harry, Louis.”

Harry snorts, running his hand through Louis’ hair. “Louis does go to the gym with me, and he nearly gets thrown out every week.”

Zayn looks at the two of them for a moment. “You don’t, like, shag on the boxing mats or summat, do you? I use the PEC as well, lads. I don’t want to have to find somewhere else.”

The two of them crack up laughing, and Harry shakes his head – hair flying out around him. “No, but thanks for the idea, bro. Louis just sits on the treadmills upping the speed until they fling him off. Repeatedly.”

“The woman asked me to leave a couple of times, but I’ve got a membership, so she can’t do nowt about it.” Louis says, grinning. Zayn laughs.

“You’re a twat.” He says, and Louis shrugs.

“What else m’I supposed to do when Harry’s actually dedicating time to his body?”

“You could, like, not go.” Harry says, smiling down at him. “Spend some time alone, like. Mum keeps saying that we’re too co-dependent.” Louis frowns up at him, and tries to stick his finger up Harry’s nose, Harry bats his hand away, laughing.

“We spend a lot of time alone. Me and Zayn moving that artwork? That was a whole two hours we spent alone. I’m going to have a word with Anne, next time she calls.”

“You do that,” Harry says. “She misses you, keeps asking me to put you on.”

“Of course she does,” Louis grins. “I’m brilliant with women. I still get texts from Eleanor, sometimes. We’re meeting up when I’m back in Doncaster; she says she wants me to meet her new girlfriend.”

“You’re not brilliant with all women, Louis,” Zayn cuts in. “Think Don’s still mad at you from when you came over to see me last summer, bro.”

“I didn’t mean to ruin her dress, Christ!” He says. Harry looks interested.

“You didn’t tell me about this,” He says, leaning over so that his face is hovering over his boyfriends. Louis glares at Zayn, and Zayn laughs at him.

“That’s because he’s still mortified about it. My sisters gave him the silent treatment for a whole day, innit? Don’s still not happy about it. He stuck my red shirt in the wash, and it was new – so all the colour ran into her dress. She was proper pissed about it, like. Her boyfriend had bought her it, or summat.”

“I’ll make it up to her one day, just you wait. I’ll be the Malik’s favourite non-Malik boy ever.”

“Ah,” Zayn says, tucking his feet up under him on the chair – it’s too cold to have his feet touching the floor in the living room. “Think you’re alright for that, Niall’s definitely got a special place in their hearts.”

“What? When have they met Niall?”

“They haven’t, he’s normally in the room when I skype them, though. He helped Waliyha pick out a dress for some lad’s formal, took it very serious. She was well chuffed, like.”

“Ugh, wait ‘til you see. I’ll usurp Niall of his title of king, I will win those girl’s hearts. C’mon, when are you going back to Bradford? Let me know, I’ll book a flight for the same day. Make them think that we’re dating, then they’ll be forced to like me.”

“No you won’t,” Zayn says. Harry nods, empathetically, poking Louis in the cheek.

“You definitely won’t. You’re coming to mine for a while next hols, you promised.” He tells Louis. Louis heaves a great sigh, but then grins.

“Yeah, babe, I know. Then you’re coming back with me to stay with my mum, yeah? I want to see how the twins are doing, need to make sure that Ernest is staying cool.”

“Of course,” Harry ducks down, rubs his nose against Louis’. The two of them smile soppily at each other for a couple of moments, and Zayn watches them – wrinkling his nose and ignoring the pang in his chest at the sight.

“You two sicken me.” Zayn says, pushing himself to stand. “I’m going to make some tea, get away from all of this. Made it this long without a cavity, like, wanna keep it that way.”

“Get me some tea, would you babe?” Louis calls to him. Zayn flips him the bird, but Louis just smiles; him and Zayn have been friends for long enough that he knows Zayn will.

The kitchen smells like burnt toast, and someone has spilled mayonnaise on one of the counters. At least, Zayn really hopes it’s mayonnaise. There’s a pile of dirty dishes almost as tall as Zayn’s shoulder, and Zayn pauses in the doorway – blinking. The past few times he’s been in their kitchen, he’s not really been taking it in. Most of the time, he only goes in there to boil the kettle, first thing in the morning – and at that point, he’s half asleep anyway.

“It’s grim in here,” He says, mainly to himself.

“I know,” Jesy says, from behind him – and he jumps. He hadn’t noticed her sitting at the table. “It’s normally Niall that cleans the kitchen, you know what he’s like. Gets all worried about that stuff, bless him. He’s been a little off, lately, though.” Jesy shoots him with a look. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that now, would you?”

“Reckon I might,” Zayn says, swallowing and looking away. “Might have been a bit of a dick.”

Jesy, to his surprise, just laughs. “Babe, don’t worry – we’ve all done it. Hell, how’d you think I got the courage to ask Jake out in the first place? Got proper smashed and then snogged the life out of him.”

“Thanks for the support, Jess, but, like, you remember doing that. I can’t remember snogging Niall. Don’t even know if it was a good snog, you know?”

Jesy smiles, “It’s not your fault you’d had one too many. Or, well, it is – but it’s not your fault that Niall’s not giving you a chance to explain, innit? Anyway, we’ll get your gallery all kitted out – and drag Niall over, and you can have your perfect rom-com moment, can’t you? I’ve always wanted to be a part of something like this!”

“You’re not allowed to be there when I tell him,” Zayn says. Jesy glares.

“Why not? The amount of effort it’s taking to keep Niall away from you, distracted and happy is ridiculous, lad. I at least deserve to see the two of you making out for it!” She sits back in her seat, crossing her arms and scowling. “I mean, what if Jake becomes rubbish in bed? I’ll need some form of wank fodder in my head to keep me going, won’t I? Two fit blokes like yourself and Mr Horan? That would be perfect!”

Zayn laughs at her, “I’m sure you’ve seen some nice things in Laverys, no?”

Jesy scowls. “Honestly, you think that I get treated with the slightest bit of respect by the patrons of Laverys? To them, I’m nothing but someone to hurl abuse at. Not to mention that time there was an actual bar fight. Stools were thrown. A stool, was thrown. Don’t you dare, Zayn Malik. I’d die before I tried to get a date there.”

Dumping some teabags in a couple of mugs for him and Louis Zayn turns round to Jesy. “You want some tea?” He asks, smirking as he changes the subject. Jesy grins at him, her eyes bright.

“Yeah, babe,” She replies, “Sounds good.”

*

It’s not until Friday that Zayn actually gets a chance to hold a conversation with Niall.

Zayn had been asleep when his phone had started ringing – because Perrie had dragged him out to Villa the night before, claiming that he needed to let loose, relax. Stop looking like such a kicked puppy.

It had been alright – once he’d wasted more money that he should have on drinks. Clubs are a lot less stressful when you aren’t looking to pull. A lot less stressful when you’re not worried about how you look, or who’s going to be there to see you take thirteen tries to get your key in the door when you get home.

Zayn had spent most of the night dancing with Perrie, laughing as the two of them got more and more uncoordinated. Perrie might not drink – but Zayn figures that standing for long enough in heels would make anyone start to keel over. It had been good fun, though – a throwback to the old days. Perrie said it was the best night out she’d had in ages – and Zayn had grinned, kissed her sloppily on the cheek.

“I’m glad we didn’t fuck this up,” He said, “Y’know, by fucking, like.”

She laughed, head thrown back, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Please, this is university! What’s a quick shag between mates?”

“A hell of a lot less important than a drunken snog, according to Niall.”

Perrie had smiled, then, and touched Zayn, gently on the nose. “Yeah, well. That’s how you know it’s going to work when you do your big, romantic moment. Anyone that gets that upset about a snog is hiding something.”

“I hope it’s a massive cock.”

Perrie had laughed the whole way home.

Now, Zayn is lying in bed – head pounding, staring down at his phone – trying to process what it means that Deirbhile is calling him. It clicks, eventually,

“Fuck,” He says, staring down at his phone in horror. The one time in his life he wasn’t waiting for the phone to ring off – and it had done anyway. He feels like a complete and utter wanker.

Standing, he figures that now he’s been woken up, he might as well actually drag himself out of bed, despite how little he wants to. Traipsing downstairs dejectedly, duvet still wrapped around his shoulders, he jumps when the front door opens. Niall is coming into the house, phone pressed to his ear, and a massive grin on his face.

“-Uh huh?” Niall says, nodding. He catches sight of Zayn, still standing on the stairs, and smiles at him, the bright one, where all his teeth are on show. He pulls a face, gesturing his hand towards the mobile that’s resting between his head and his shoulder - giving Zayn the thumbs up.

It makes Zayn stop, just take him in for a while. Niall is wearing a white t-shirt, and a hat that was probably Harry’s once, and looking at him makes Zayn feel warm inside. It’s been over a week since they kissed, and neither of them have spoken properly since. When they have been forced to hang out, Niall had spent most of the time avoiding eye contact and shifting away. It means more than Zayn even realised to have him smiling, directly at Zayn, now.

Niall doesn’t seem to notice this, though. He shuts the front door, leaning against it – still nodding. He catches Zayn’s eye, again, and smiles as he says, “I’ll let him know. Thank you, Deirbhile!” He pulls the phone away from his ear, hanging up and shoving it in his pocket, before looking up at Zayn and smiling, wide.

Zayn feels the pit of his stomach drop out – and, as fast as he can move with his head still throbbing, he moves to stand beside Niall. “So,” Zayn asks. Swallows, awkwardly, “You were on the phone to Deirbhile?” Niall nods. “Do you know, like? Did I win?”

“You know you did,” Niall says, and his smile fills up the whole of his face. He pulls Zayn into a strange hug – Zayn’s arms are still trapped under the duvet, and Niall is kind of just clutching him, but it’s nice. Nice to have Niall pressed against him after almost two weeks of not talking.

“How come Deribhile called you, anyway?” Zayn asks, from under his blanket pile. As nice as it is to have Niall wrapped around him, if he squeezes any tighter – Zayn cannot be held responsible for what his stomach will do. Thankfully, Niall lets go of him, stepping back and shrugging.

“She said you didn’t pick up your phone. I was the backup contact, you know. In case of emergencies, and all that.”

“Was sleeping, it woke me up, like. Didn’t get to answer it on time, feeling a bit delicate, you know.”

Niall nods, “Or were you just staring at it hoping someone else would answer it for you?” He asks, and Zayn laughs.

“Yeah, well,” Zayn laughs, “Bit of both, really. You know me, like.”

There’s a pause, where the two of them look at each other. Niall still has the hints of a smile on his face, but it’s fading – with each passing second. “Yeah,” He says, eventually. “Yeah, I know you.”

Zayn doesn’t know what to say, Niall is still looking at him – same, weird, faded smile on his face. His hand is still clutched, tight around his mobile phone, and Zayn finds himself staring at that, rather than directly at Niall. It’s sad, really – Niall was the one that told him about this competition; a short time ago Zayn winning – getting his art into the Golden Threads, an actual gallery would have been the best thing that either of them could imagine. Niall probably would have dragged him out for a celebratory meal, or something. Made Zayn call his mum and peer over his shoulder the whole time.

They definitely wouldn’t be standing – suspended in awkward silence, neither of them sure what to say.

“How come you’re delicate, then? You hanging?” Niall asks, and Zayn shrugs.

“Yeah, proper bad, like. Perrie dragged me out of the house. Said I needed to stop being so much in my own head. Had more than a bit too much, like. I’m proper skint, now.”

He tries to laugh about it, but at once Niall’s whole face seems to close off. He frowns, body language tightening as he takes a small step away from Zayn. “Oh,” He says. “You and Perrie. I didn’t know that you two were still -” He trails off,

“Still what?” Zayn asks, pulling his duvet a little tighter around him. He knows that something in Niall’s tone has changed for the worse, but he’s too tired, and too hungover to even try and properly process it.

Niall’s lips purse. “Still,” He waves his hand around. Zayn pulls his duvet up more, so that it’s curved over his head like a hood, and peers out at Niall, frowning. “Still, I don’t know, having a thing.” Niall finishes, and Zayn blinks.

“We aren’t,” He says. “Haven’t been since, um –” He stops, looks at Niall, who is still staring back at him. “We haven’t been since the party. You know, at Ellie and Ed’s,” He holds his breath – hoping, somehow, that Niall puts it all together. That he figures out Zayn stopped things with Perrie, and then went to find Niall.

Instead, all of the colour drains from Niall’s face. He blanches, “You were with Perrie that night?”

“What?” Zayn says, blinking – before he realises what Niall thinks. This isn’t the sort of conversation that he should be having when it feels like his skull is being crushed slowly by a clamp. “Shit, no, Niall. I mean, I was hammered, yeah? That would be a bad decision on her part, you know? God, no. I was way too smashed, mate. Me and Perrie just, like, we’re not a thing anymore. Shouldn’t have ever been.”

Niall still doesn’t look reassured, “Why not?” He asks. “Perrie is hot.”

Zayn smiles, shakes his head. “There are hotter people out there,” He says, and walks away down the hall before Niall can pull him into more conversation. He needs to text his mum, tell her that he’s won. He needs to tell Louis that the plan is in motion.

He needs to make a cup of tea before he throws up last night’s regrets.

*

Trisha Malik reacts exactly like Zayn thought she would. He texts her, and then goes up to get dressed – pulling on his softest jumper and warmest pair of tracksuit bottoms, before glancing at his phone again. She hasn't seen it - but the second that the text he sends her reads, ‘read’ Zayn’s phone is buzzing with a phone call from her.

He answers it, smile already in place.

“Sunshine!” She says, “I’m so proud of you! I always knew you could do something like this. You’re so talented, baby. Me and your dad always called it – knew from the first second, yeah? I texted Doniya, too, so I imagine she’ll want to call you later.”

“Thanks, mum,” He says, quietly. He leans back in his bed, and shuts his eyes. His head is still sore, but talking to his mum is making him feel better in more ways than one. He sighs, fiddling with the sleeve of his jumper, and then he coughs. If he’s telling her things – he might as well tell her everything.

“Mum? I’ve, um. I’ve got something that I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. For a while now, like.”

“What is it, baby?”

He smiles slightly at the concern in her voice. Shakes his head, says, “Uh, like, it’s not bad or nowt. I’m just, you know, I want you to find out from me, like.”

“I’m listening,” She says. Concern is evident in her voice.

“Well, I’m just. It’s about, like, me and Niall.”

At once, his mum laughs. “Oh, baby,” She says, “Are you finally calling to tell me that you two are dating? I’ve known for a while now.”

Zayn blinks, wordlessly, and pulls the phone away from his ear to stare at it for a second. His mum is still reading as the contact, so, hesitantly, he puts it back to his ear. “Um,” He says. “We’re not?”

There is silence on the other end of the line.

“Did you two break up?” She asks, sounding impossibly sad. Zayn is even more confused.

“No, like. Mum, we were never together.”

“Oh,” She says. There’s another pause, and then. “Are you sure?” Zayn snorts despite himself.

“Yeah, mum. Pretty sure, like. I was having a thing with Perrie, up until recently.”

“Perrie?” His mum asks, “Was she that blonde girl? Drop dead gorgeous, like?”

“Uh, yeah,” Zayn laughs awkwardly, shifting around on the bed. “That’s Perrie.”

“Hm,” His mum says. “I always thought that she was quite like Niall, actually. The two of them always seemed quite similar to me.”

“Um-”

“You know that whole blonde hair, blue eyes thing they both have going on. And they’re both so funny, baby. The two of them had you in stitches. It was lovely to watch, you know. You were always so shy as a baby, I was so glad that you were making friends over there. I mean, your dad couldn’t believe it when he saw some of the girls you were staying with. You know him -”

“Yeah, but, like. I want to talk to you about Niall. Um, not Perrie,” Zayn says, cutting her off before she goes off on one completely.

“Well, you can tell me anything, love.”

Zayn swallows, and takes a deep breath in. “I, um, I’m kind of in love with him. A little.” He says. There’s silence down the other end of the line. “Mum?”

“Sorry, love,” She says, and Zayn doesn’t have to see her to know that she’s holding back laughter. “I’m just trying to get over the fact that you thought that was a secret.”

“I-” Zayn stops, chokes a little on the air around him. “ _What_?”

He can hear the smile in his mum’s voice, now. Can perfectly picture her sitting on the sofa, laughing to herself about what an idiot he is. “Honey, it doesn’t take a genius to see the way you look at that boy. You’ve been gone on him since the start. I would have been worried about it, if he hadn’t been looking right back at you.”

It’s one thing to hear something like that from Ellie, from Ed, from Louis, even. It’s another story entirely to hear it from his mother – the one woman that’s dedicated her entire life to looking after Zayn. It’s there, clear as day in her voice, that she thinks Niall is right for him. Good for him, even.

It makes Zayn feel even worse.

“I messed it up, though,” He whispers.

“Hm,” His mum says, again. “I doubt that. I can’t imagine you being able to do anything to Niall that would ruin your relationship enough he wouldn’t forgive you. You’re his world, Zayn. Same way he is yours. Now, I have to go do a few things before I pick up your sister, but I want you to listen to me now, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You are amazing. You got your art put up in a _gallery_ today. You are kind, and funny, and you are my favourite boy in the whole world, and, if by some bizarre chance things don’t end up working out with Niall, or Perrie, or whoever you want to be with – then that’s okay. There’s someone else out there for you. Alright?”

Zayn nods, swallowing around the lump that’s made its way into his throat. “Yeah. Thanks, mum. I’ll call you later, yeah?”

“Speak to you soon, baby. Send me pictures of the gallery, okay?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

*

Zayn spends the next two days working with Dierbhile to ensure that the gallery looks the best it possibly can. He’s got a paper for English due on Monday, but, when he’d explained to his professor what was going on – she’d begrudgingly given him a two day extension.

“Well,” Dierbhile says finally, taking a step back and smiling. “Think we’re pretty much done here.”

Zayn looks around, all of the walls in the gallery are filled up with his art – strung between them is some bunting that Ariana made for him. She’d handed it to him begrudgingly.

“I’m still mad at you for upsetting Niall,” She said. “But, I figure that Louis’ plan is something you’ve agreed to, and that you’re genuinely sorry. So, like, here you go. This is my contribution to the cause,” She’d handed it over to him, and then scowled. “If you break Niall’s heart again, though, I’m coming for you Malik. I could take you.”

Zayn had told her that he didn’t doubt it.

The bunting was composed of triangles of plain fabric that Ariana had painted onto. On each one, there was something to do with either Zayn or Niall – be it a lame inside joke, a place that they’d been, or a picture of them, or even just some hearts and patterns. When he was hanging it up, Zayn had gotten a little emotional. He’d sent her more than a few texts saying thank you.

“Is that part of your actual display?” Dierbhile asks, looking at it. She doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, but even her asking makes Zayn feel defensive. He likes the bunting a lot, it’s beautiful. The second that he’s no longer trying to impress Niall with it, he’s taking it back down and stringing it all over his room.

“No,” Zayn says, scratching the back of his neck and laughing, embarrassed. “This is just, for, um. This is for the dramatic gesture part of the night, I guess you could say. Friend made it for me.”

“Ah,” Deirbhile’s eyes are knowing, and she smiles, reaching out to pat Zayn on the shoulder. “I’ve told the other girls about that, by the way. Your big moment. They’re very excited, think it’s nice, you know? Remind us all of the romantics still in us. Get rid of that cynical artist,” She laughs. “Anyway, we can give you the gallery tomorrow night, if you want? All your stuff is already up, and that means you’ll be able to get it out of the way, focus on your exhibition properly. We’ll all clear out, it’ll just be you and your lad.”

Zayn turns to her, eyes wide. “You’re serious, like? You don’t mind?”

“Not at all! I hardly think you’re going to wreck the place. As long as you lock up when you’re leaving then I’ve got no issue with you getting her bucked in here,” She squints at him, then. “That’s a general phrase, you know – I don’t mean that your guy is secretly a girl, or something.”

Zayn laughs. “I figured, yeah. Been living in Belfast a while, like, I’ve heard a few people say it.”

Dierbhile grins, thumps him on the back between his shoulder blades – and laughs when it jolts Zayn forwards. “You should go all out,” She tells him. “Get some candles as well, you know. Sit in the middle of the room in the nude and then tell him that you love him and want to romance him.” She waggles her eyebrows, and Zayn is reminded, horrifyingly

“I think that’s a bit much for me, like,” Zayn says, raising his eyebrows. “Besides, the wall on one side is entirely glass. Reckon the rest of Belfast don’t need to catch sight of me in the nude”

Dierbhile cackles. “I can’t think of many people that would be complaining, darling. You’re not exactly sore on the eyes – Laura’s been going on at me about getting you in some time to model for her.”

Zayn flushes. “I’d do it, like. Anything, you know, after all you’ve done for me. I mean, even you choosing to put my art up is an honour. So, like. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing, Zayn, honestly,” Dierbhile says. “You definitely deserve it, babe.” She glances down, looking at the clunky gold watch on her wrist, and gasps. “Shit, babe. I have to go, okay? Come back tomorrow at around four. Ish. I’ll give you the keys and clear the riff raff out for you, promise.”

“Yeah, no worries,” Zayn says, putting the hood of his jacket up and pushing his hands in his pockets. He rocks back and forth on his feet for a couple of moments, debating what to say. The full reality f the situation is starting to kick in – he’s so close to finally sitting down with Niall and telling him how he feels. “Thanks,” He settles on, eventually. “Honestly, I mean it, like.”

Dierbhile just smiles as she herds him out the door of the gallery. “Get out, you. Go on! Go and prepare yourself for your boy.”

“He’s not my boy,” Zayn says.

Dierbhile tuts. “Not _yet_.”

*

Zayn doesn’t tell Louis’ that he has the gallery until half an hour before he’s planning to go over – and even then, it’s only because he’s trying to ask Liam if he can text Jade and Leigh for the car.

“The sooner we buy that group car, the better,” He mutters, and Liam laughs.

“Imagine, Louis having a good idea.”

“What’s this about me?” Louis asks, wandering into the living room. Liam looks over at him.

“Zayn’s got the gallery for his big romantic moment, today,” He says. Louis’ eyes light up. “Where is Niall, anyway?”

Louis shrugs, “Dunno, shit. We can’t have him wondering where we all are.”

“Don’t worry,” Jesy says. Zayn jumps, he hadn’t seen her sitting on the sofa. “I texted Ari there now, she says that Niall’s out with Jade, Leigh, Ellie and Ed. Think they’re going to see a movie or summat.”

“Great,” Louis says. Then he _screams_ , “We’re pimping out the gallery today, lads!”

Zayn blinks at him, wondering if his ears are permanently damaged. There’s silence in the house for a few seconds. Louis waits, standing beside Zayn and Liam expectantly. Then – the inevitable happens. The whole house goes into complete and utter uproar.

“I bought you fairy lights,” Perrie says, rooting around in her bag for a second before shoving them into his hands, ignoring his bewildered look.

“And I can cook some food for you, so you two can have, like, a romantic dinner! I’ve been learning all these cool new recipes with Established, and –”

“It’s fine guys, really,” Zayn says, cutting Harry off before he can properly go off on one. “Honest, I just want it to be me, like. You know. Me, and the art and-”

“You should ask him to play you his song,” Ariana says.

“What?”

“His song? The one he had to write for his composition piece. You know, the one everyone’s heard but you, and you were all sad about it? Ask him to play it for you.”

Louis grins, teeth showing. “You should definitely ask him to play you his song.”

“With what? The air?”

“Nah, we’ll nab his guitar and jam it in the gallery. Take Harry up on his offer of food, you know? Put a blanket down, eat some food, be soppy and romantic,” Louis says, waving his hand at Zayn in a clear dismissal. “Stop panicking so much about things. Tell him you love him. Get him to play you his song. It’ll be great.”

“Yeah,” Jesy says, from where she’s lying on the sofa, head in Perrie’s lap. “It’ll be proper disgusting,” She’s no longer looking at any of them; attention entirely focused on her phone instead. Somehow, she still manages to give Zayn the finger when he pulls a face at her.

“Do you not think he’ll notice if his guitar goes missing? He loves that thing,” Liam asks, frowning. Louis glares at him.

“We’re not going to have it for very long, are we? Just while Zayn’s setting up the place – and then we’re going to drive Niall over there anyway.”

“Woah, wait,” Zayn says. “You’re all driving Niall over? No. I want this to be, like, private. Just the two of us, you know? I don’t wanna be confessing my undying love and then look up and see Louis pulling some hideous face at me.”

“He’s not going to go anywhere if we’re not coming with him,” Ariana says, shrugging. “Anyway, don’t worry. We’ll all drag Louis out of the room, promise.”

“This is terrible,” Louis proclaims, “I’m the one that’s practically organised all of this single handily. If not for me, the two of them would still be crying in their rooms to Taylor Swift. I should get to see the resolution! The pinnacle moment! I need inspiration for my work, you know. I’m a poet at heart.”

“You’re a fucking twat at heart, Tommo,” Liam says, laughing. Louis pulls a face of fake hurt at him.

Zayn sighs. “Look, it’s nice that you guys all want to help me, or whatever – but, like, I think that I should be doing this alone, you know? I mean, it’s me and Niall. It’s our relationship, like. Whatever that is. I just. I want to do it right.”

Perrie smiles at him, softly. “You two will get it right, babe. Promise you will. I mean, if he’s good enough to give me up for – you must have something special, yeah?”

Zayn laughs. “Full of yourself?”

“Only when it’s necessary,” Perrie replies, grinning at him. Zayn laughs, shaking his head.

“Anyway, you all need to tell me that you aren’t gonna all be there, okay? I’m not chasing you all out myself, like. C’mon. Be decent people for once in your life.”

“It’ll be hard,” Liam says. “Don’t think Harry knows how to be decent, mate.”

Harry scowls at him. “Don’t lie to me, you love seeing all of this, bro. You think I’m fit.”

“Harry,” Liam says, slowly. “I mean this with all of the love in my heart, okay?” Harry nods. “I could have gone every single day of my life without seeing your knob, mate.”

“I agree,” Louis cuts in. “I don’t think anyone but me should ever see it.”

“Possessiveness is ugly,” Perrie says. Louis gives her the finger.

“Just because Zayn was never possessive over you because he wanted to fuck Niall more.”

There are a few seconds of stunned silence, Perrie sitting there, mouth slightly open in shock. Louis just raises his eyebrows at her, and Jesy chokes out a stunned laugh.

“Shit,” She says. “Fuck. Remind me to never to get on Louis’ bad side. That was quite dramatic.”

“I’m a drama student.”

“You’re a bloody nightmare,” Harry says, but it’s too fond for anyone to take it seriously.

“Anyway,” Zayn says. “I’m leaving this madness, and going to the gallery.”

There’s a pause – before everyone in the room jumps up, scrabbling to find where they left their shoes, where their coat is – why Zayn couldn’t give them more warning before he tried to leave. Zayn just stands in the doorway watching, amused.

“You nervous, mate?” Liam asks, standing beside him. He was ready as soon as Zayn said he was going, because he’s Liam.

“Fucking terrified,” Zayn says. “I don’t know what I’m going to do if he turns me down, like. I’ve hardly handled this whole thing like an adult, have I?”

Liam shrugs, “Doesn’t matter. You aren’t an adult, I mean, what defines an adult?”

“I don’t know,” Zayn says, smiling. “Being able to work your washing machine?”

Liam raises his eyebrows, “Well, then I’m definitely not one. I just give all my washing to Jade and Leigh and hope they know what to do with it.”

“Sexism, Payno!” Zayn says. Liam sticks his tongue out at him.

“Hey, I don’t think so. If they’re already washing clothes, why not wash mine, innit? Better than me shredding everything I own because I still don’t know how to use the machine. I mean, do you know how to work that thing?”

“Niall does all of mine,” Zayn admits. “I’ve been running low, lately.”

“Exactly,” Liam looks victorious. “See, you and me? We’re not adults at all. How can we be expected to act like them? Are you lot ready yet?” He yells the next bit, and Zayn jumps; surprised by the change in volume.

“Fucking patience is a virtue, Payno!” Louis yells back.

“You don’t have any virtues, Louis!” Ariana calls. She’s come to stand in the hall with Liam and Zayn, and is currently looking in the mirror there, twisting it into a ponytail.

“I dispute that,” Harry is the next to yell. “He’s really good with-”

“Harry, if you finish that sentence the way that I think you’re going to-”

“His _sisters_ ,” Harry finishes.

“Shut up, Hazza,” Louis calls, running down their stairs. “People don’t need to know that I’m a good person. I have a black soul inside, I swear. I’m the resident bad boy if Zayn dies, thought we decided this.”

“What?” Zayn asks, Liam laughs.

“We might have been a little drunk one time. We were talking about what would happen if we were differently perceived people.”

“What, like, Louis’ would be the posh wanker, and Harry would be the responsible, Northern English parental figure.”

Exactly,” Louis says, looking amused. “Though why we ever thought Liam was responsible, I have no idea.”

“I used to be,” Liam says, mildly. “You just corrupted me.”

Louis’ smile shows all of his teeth.

“C’mon! He yells, “We can only take five people in the car, and there’s already four standing in the hall!”

There’s the sound of crashing, and then Perrie and Harry appear on the stairs, neck and neck. The two of them are laughing, elbowing each other and trying to get past. They land on the hall floor at the exact same time as Jesy opens the door of her ground floor bedroom.

All three of them look expectantly at Louis.

“Shit,” Liam says.

“Well, there is a boot to the car,” Louis says.

*

When they get to the Golden Threads, Louis cracks open the boot of the car, and Jesy and Perrie sit up.

“Fuck,” Perrie says, “It was boiling in there.”

“I was about to fall asleep, actually,” Jesy says. “It was kind of comfortable in there,” Zayn looks down. Perrie and Jesy had said if they were going to be shoved in the boot of a car together, then they should at least be comfortable with it. Consequently, there’s a pile of duvets and pillows in there. Blinking down on it, Zayn concedes that it does actually look quite comfortable.

“Well then,” Louis says, “It’s good to know. Now, c’mon, lads. We’ve got an art exhibit to pimp out.”

“Well,” Zayn says. “I have an art exhibit to pimp out. I didn’t even invite you lot, innit?”

“It’s okay,” Harry says, slinging his arm over Zayn’s shoulders and swinging him closer. “We know that you love us, Zayn. Don’t worry about it. We weren’t offended that you didn’t ask. We know that you just assumed we were coming.” He grins, dimples showing, and Zayn pokes him in the stomach, squirming away.

He doesn’t deny it, though. He did assume that they were coming.

Dierbhile looks up from behind the front desk in surprise when Louis buzzes the door, but as soon as she sees Zayn, she grins.

“Alright, mucker? Who’s the entourage?”

“Well, Louis you’ve met,” Zayn says, gesturing to him. Louis waves a little. “This is his boyfriend, Harry,” Harry grins, and Zayn can see his charm working on Dierbhile effortlessly. “This is Jesy, Ariana and Perrie, and this is Liam. They’re my housemates. Well, all of them except Ariana.”

“I live one street over,” Ariana says, smiling. “I’m the best friend of the one he’s trying to get. I’m also the one that told him about this competition in the first place.”

“Ah,” Dierbhile says, nodding. “You’re the artist friend?”

“Yeah,” Ariana says.

“How come you didn’t enter?”

Ariana shrugs, “My art is quite traditional, in a sense. It’s not the sort of thing that you’d normally see in here. Thought that it might be more to Zayn’s style,” She grins. “Clearly, I was right.”

“That you were,” Dierbhile smiles. “So you’re just here to do your best friend duty then, love? Ensure that he doesn’t mess it all up?”

“Well, more than he already has,” Jesy cuts in. Perrie elbows her.

“We’re being supportive, Jesy, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Jesy says, baring her teeth at Zayn. Zayn pulls a face at her.

“Go text your boyfriend,” He says. Jesy laughs.

“Not until we’ve got this place ready for you to woo yours.”

“And, on that note,” Dierbhile says. “Here’s the keys, babe. My goddaughter texted me a while ago asking me if I wanted to go over to hers for dinner, so I’m gonna scram to that. Lauren left a while ago – but if she does come back it’ll just be because she’s forgot something. I swear, these artist types,” Dierbhile shoots Zayn a look. “Would forget their own head if they weren’t screwed on!”

“Alright,” Zayn says, taking the keys from her. “Thank you so much for this, by the way. Honestly, like, everything you’ve done has been unbelievable. I’m so grateful, like.”

“It’s no bother at all, darling!” Dierbhile says, “Now, I really am away. You’re all alright, yeah?”

“We’re good,” Perrie says. “Thank you!”

“Alright,” Dierbhile says, pulling on her coat and gathering her bag. They all watch her as she leaves, and she flashes them one last smile before pulling the door shut behind her.

As soon as she’s gone, they turn to survey the gallery. Ariana smiles when she sees that Zayn has already pinned up her bunting between some of the canvases.

“I think we should start with the fairy lights,” Liam says. “Create, like, an area for you two to be, you know?”

“Yes,” Harry says, “I grabbed a blanket for the floor, and you didn’t give me time to cook anything – but I brought some fancy cheese I stole from work, and also some fruit.”

“Why don’t we just order a pizza or summat later?” Zayn asks, they all turn to look at him, horrified.

“Because you’re supposed to be being romantic,” Jesy says.

Ariana snorts. “To be fair, it is Niall that he’s trying to get. I’m pretty sure pizza is romantic to Niall.”

“You see?” Zayn says, gesturing to her. “The two people that know Niall the most say that we should get pizza.”

“I never said that you should get pizza, Zayn. I just said that Niall likes it,” Ariana says. Zayn waves a hand at her.

“Surely that’s just the same thing, yeah?”

“I’m starting to think that Niall only eats so much pizza because you have a secret obsession with it,” Jesy says. Zayn laughs.

“I only eat so much of it because I can’t cook.”

“I could teach you,” Harry says. Liam cuts in before Zayn can say anything.

“No you can’t. The last time you tried to teach someone to cook the fire brigade arrived because the smoke alarm went off for over a certain period of time.”

“That only happened because Louis distracted me,” Harry says defensively. Jesy snorts with laughter, “I doubt Zayn would do that!”

“I don’t know,” Perrie says, looking between the two of them. “You’d be pretty hot together, like.”

“No,” Louis says. “Me and Zayn discussed this, we need to wait for him to woo Niall and then we’re going to have a foursome.”

Harry chokes. “ _What_?”

“Oh my god,” Zayn says, putting a hand on his forehead and wanting the ground to swallow him up. “We did not discuss that. That discussion never happened.”

“Yeah,” Perrie says, from where her and Jesy are leaning against each other, snickering. “If you were having a foursome – you might as well just invite Liam, make it an out and out gang bang.”

“Well,” Liam says, blinking. “I mean, gang bang would definitely be an experience. A good icebreaker, you know? For when you’re meeting new people. Like, you’d never not have an interesting story to tell.”

Jesy cackles, clapping her hands together. “I can’t believe it. Liam Payne just came up for a practical reason for a gang bang.”

“It’s only a gang bang if it’s just the one person getting fucked,” Harry says, thoughtfully.

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Zayn says. “I hate all of you. You can all leave.”

“Hey,” Ariana says, sounding offended.

“Except you, Ariana, you’re the only one that’s normal.”

“Oh, no, I was just going to ask if this gang bang is an all-male thing, or if girls are invited too.”

“That’s a good point, actually,” Liam says, turning to look at Zayn. “Like, am I allowed to bring Leigh and Jade?”

“Can I bring myself?” Ariana asks.

“Well, now, if everyone’s going, me and Jesy should be allowed in on it too, and Ed and Ellie, I suppose,” Perrie cuts in, Jesy nods enthusiastically. Zayn looks at her, trying to convey the betrayal in his eyes.

The laughter of them all cackling follows him as he stalks off to the other side of the gallery, head in his hands.

*

Forty minutes later – and it’s starting to look pretty good. They’d placed the blanket Harry shoved in the car last minute at the base of the biggest canvas – the one that Louis still claims is about Niall. Around the canvas, they looped the fairy lights that Perrie gave him. Beside the blanket, is the selection of food that Harry brought, as well; about twenty minutes in – he’d stood up, said, “Shit, Established is really close to here,” And ran off to steal a load of the sandwiches that hadn’t sold, that day.

It’s a proper picnic, now, and Zayn has been telling himself to hold out on eating any since Harry first showed him it. The food all looks so good – and he’s starving; he's been too nervous to eat properly all day. 

Niall’s guitar, which, by some miracle Ariana had remembered has been set carefully against the wall, and they moved where the bunting was hanging, so that it too is all streaming out from

All in all, it looks pretty cosy.

“Wow,” Perrie says, surveying their work.

“Yeah,” Jesy says. “Shit, if this alone doesn’t convince him, Zayno, I think you might just have to give up.”

“It’s my touch,” Harry says. “I’m just naturally a homemaker.”

Louis snorts, loudly. “You’re a fucking weirdo, that’s all.”

“Anyway, I’m the art student,” Ariana says. “It was definitely my artistic know-how.”

“You’re all amazing, lads,” Zayn says, ignoring the burgeoning argument in favour of staring at the way it all looks. It feels real, now – that he’s going to tell Niall how he feels, soon. The nerves are starting to kick in, so thick and heavy in his chest it feels like his throat is tightening up. “Shit,” He says, laughing. “Fuck, it’s really happening.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ariana says, quietly, putting her tiny hand into his. “He does love you, Zayn. It’s going to be great.”

“Yeah,” Liam agrees. “You’re going to be worse than Harry and Louis.”

“I told Jake to buy me some paper bags and scatter them around the house, you know? Make sure ones always in easy access for when I need to throw up.”

“You’ll be great,” Perrie says, looking him dead in the eye. It’s her, more than anyone else that comforts him – Perrie, who got fucked around in Zayn’s whole mess even more than Niall himself did.

“Thank you,” He says, croaking it out around the sudden lump in his throat. She smiles at him, softly.

“No worries,” She says.

“Right,” Harry says, from where he’s hanging over Louis’ back, he leans down and bites Louis’ shoulder – before looking up at them all again. “Now that we’ve given the emotional pep talk – how long is it until Niall actually gets here?”

Ariana pulls out her phone, squinting at it. “About ten minutes, I’m guessing,” She says, “Ellie texted me five minutes ago saying that they were starting to drive over.”

“Shit, you all need to get the fuck out,” Zayn says, making shooing motions at them. None of them budge. “Come on, guys. Give me and Niall our moment, yeah? Please? I need this.”

“You need to buy me a lot of booze for sorting this whole thing out,” Louis says. “That’s what you need.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, like. If this works, I’ll owe you all for eternity. Now, come on! Niall is going to be here any minute, and we can’t all be standing in the middle of the fucking room like cocks.”

“You do like cocks,” Harry says. Zayn rubs at his temple.

“No, I don’t like you at all, Harry,” He replies, and Harry cackles, clapping his hand over his mouth in clear embarrassment. Zayn just stares at him, waiting.

“Alright, alright,” He says, eventually, grabbing Louis’ wrist and starting to tug him along as he walks towards the door out. “Come on, babe, let’s rally the troops, give Niall and Zayn their romantic confession.”

“Ugh,” Jesy says, but she’s smiling as she, too, starts to leave. “Come on then, Perrie. Zayn’s made it clear that _you’re_ not wanted.” Perrie laughs, loudly.

Liam follows her and Perrie out, too, turning around to shoot one last thumbs up in Zayn’s direction. “Good luck, mate,” He says. “Not that you need it. You and Niall are a sure thing.”

“Thanks, mate,” Zayn replies. Then it’s just him and Ariana. She turns to him.

“If you mess this up, I’m going to mess you up, you know that, right? I am so mad at you for hurting him that I didn’t even know I could be this angry.”

“I’ve got it, Ari,” He says. He’s not kidding, he’s pretty terrified of her. She smiles.

“That’s good,” She says, and then steps forward and hugs him, arms wrapping around his waist, tight. “You’ll do great, I swear. If you tell him how you really feel then I don’t think there’s any way this could go wrong.”

“I hope so,” Zayn says.

“I know so,” Ariana replies, blowing him a kiss as she leaves. Then, all of a sudden, it’s just Zayn, sitting in the middle of the gallery – on a blanket that Harry lifted from their house, with a picnic basket of food that might not get eaten if Niall doesn’t want to give him a chance.

Zayn doesn’t know if there are words for how much he wants Niall to give him a chance.

*

He doesn’t know how long it is before Niall gets to the gallery. It could be ten minutes – it could have been forty five. He’s too scared to move, too scared to even look at his phone to see the time in case he jinxes it somehow. In case he inadvertently twists something wrong.

Eventually, there’s the familiar snick of the heavy door being shoved open. He can’t see it from where he’s sitting, tucked behind the wall in the second section of the gallery. Silently, he waits with baited breath.

“Why am I going in alone?” He hears Niall’s voice ask. He shuts his eyes, his hands are shaking, and his heart is in his throat.

“You need to,” Ellie’s voice says back. “Look, just go in, it’ll all make sense in a minute, okay?”

Zayn’s heart is in his throat.

“If this is some kind of prank, or thing to fuck with me, I will get you back so good, you two. You know that, right?”

“We know,” Ed, this time. “Look, seriously, mate. You don’t know how long we’ve all been working on this for.”

“Please?” Ellie says. There’s a brief pause – a brief pause, which feels like eternity to Zayn.

“Okay,” Niall says. Then the door shuts, and there’s the sound of a single pair of footsteps.

Taking a deep breath in, Zayn stands, walking out to where Niall is standing in the first part of the gallery – staring at Zayn’s art on the walls.

“Niall?” He says. Niall jumps, and turns to look at him. He’s wearing a snapback, an old one - Zayn’s been trying to steal it for months. His jeans and boots are his usual, plain denim and light brown – but his t-shirt is white, and hanging off his body, and the pattern on it shows that it’s definitely one of Zayn’s.

Zayn is so in love with him that it physically hurts.

“Um,” He says, and licks his lips, nervously. “Hey. Ed and Ellie let me in.”

“I know,” Zayn says. “I asked them to.”

“Right,” Niall says. His hands are twisting, and he looks awkward, uncomfortable standing there in the cold concrete of the Golden Threads gallery, Zayn’s paintings towering above him. “Um, why?”

“I,” Zayn is stuttering now, too, nerves so powerful he feels like he’s going to faint. “Um, look, why don’t we come over to this side?”

He walks, slowly to the other half of the gallery; making sure that Niall is following behind him. When Niall sees the display, he stops short – blinking at the blanket, and the fairy lights, and the food.

“What the hell is going on?” He says, and he sounds like he’s trying to laugh it off – but when Zayn turns to look at him, he can see the glimmer of hope in his eyes. Can see the way Niall is making assumptions but so desperately trying to tell himself not to.

“Look, okay. I, like. You’d think, um,” He stops, laughs embarrassedly, runs a nervous hand through his hair. He wonders if Niall can see the way that they’re shaking. “You’d think, being an English student, that I’d be better with words, but. Um. I’m not – and that’s, like, that’s why Louis, and the rest of them – had to force me to do this all here, where, um. Where I hope it’s kind of obvious, what I’m trying to do,” He glances up from the floor, and Niall’s eyes are fixed on him. Blue – and wide, he’s staring at Zayn as though he’s scare he’ll disappear if Niall looks away.

“Basically, what I’m trying to say is that – the thing with Perrie, was, um, a mistake. Not a mistake in the sense that, like, I regret it – but a mistake, because, like. I mean, I don’t feel that way about Perrie. I’m not. I don’t love Perrie,” He chances another look up, and Niall looks floored. He’s still standing there, still watching Zayn, breath coming heavy.

Zayn’s heart feels like it’s four sizes too big for his chest. “What, I’m, really, really, shitly trying to say is that – um. Is that – I love you. Like, I am so, completely and utterly, fucking. I’m gone for you, Niall, like. I want to hold your hand in front of your dad and I want to wake up at early and go see sports events with you because they make you smile, and, um, I want to be with you, like, all the time. I’m worse than Harry and Louis, I swear. I miss you when you’re not around, and, well,” He gestures to the canvas behind him.

“I mean. All my art is about you, Niall. And I want you to meet my sisters in the flesh, and I told my mum I was in love with you, and she said that it’s always been obvious; I was just late in realising it. So, basically, I just,” His hands are still shaking uncontrollably, and he hasn’t looked up at Niall in a while. “I just. I’m in love with you, and I’m sorry that I went with Perrie, because I’m such a moron. And I’m sorry I upset you, because, like, I snogged you. I’m really sorry that I can’t even remember it. And I guess – I guess if you don’t, like. If you don’t want anything to do with me, then,” He stops, takes a rattling breath in. “Then, I’ll be gutted, like. But, um, I’ll let you be. I just. I had to let you know, innit? I had to let you know that I love you.”

He looks up, the shaking has moved from just his hands to his whole body. He feels seconds away from flying completely off the handle. Niall is standing, a foot away from him – tears streaking down his cheeks, and Zayn feels the bottom of his stomach fall out.

“Shit,” He says. He feels horrible, broken even. It’s clear that Niall doesn’t want him – is just gearing up to turn him down. “Shit, you’re crying. Fuck, I knew this was a stupid idea. Blame Louis. I’m sorry, I’ll go. I-”

He’s about to run out of the gallery, go somewhere and cry for a few weeks, but Niall reaches out, grabs his wrist.

“Don’t, don’t you dare go anywhere, Zayn Malik,” He says, and he’s smiling – eyes still red from the tears, but mouth split so wide open that Zayn loses his breath all over again. “Don’t. Don’t say anything for a minute, yeah? Let me. I don’t know,” He stops, laughs. His cheeks are ruddy, and he looks so happy. So happy, and open – eyes wide, and Zayn can feel himself shaking.

“I love you too, Zayn,” Niall says, and it feels like Zayn’s whole world has fallen apart and then been put back together. The world is technicolour, and he might be crying too, and Niall is still standing there, still looking at him. Still whispering, “Fuck, I love you too.”

He pulls Zayn in close, hand still on his wrist. Pulls him so close that Zayn can rest his forehead against Niall’s, see every different colour within his eyes. Zayn pulls back a little, runs his thumb softly along the bags underneath his eyes, wiping away the tears. Then he tips straight back into Niall’s space.

“Yeah?” He whispers. Niall laughs, and Zayn can feel his breath on his lips, feel the way he presses slightly closer. He shuts his eyes, wonders if anyone’s ever died from being too in love.

“Yeah,” Niall says, so close that Zayn can feel every movement against his own lips.

“Alright,” Zayn says, and closes the distance.

Kissing Niall is everything he thought it would be and more. It feels like an out of body experience, the way he can feel Niall’s hips under his hand – the way Niall’s lips are moving against his. The way that he can feel each hitch in Niall’s breath, the press of Niall’s body to his.

When they pull apart for air, Zayn laughs. He can’t stop smiling, feels giddy on it. “Louis’ gonna be insufferable,” He says. Niall smiles.

“Don’t really care, to be honest. We’re probably going to be insufferable too,” He looks up at Zayn, grinning – eyes bright from underneath his eyelashes. Zayn laughs. “C’mon,” Niall says, then. “You laid out this blanket and all, clearly spent time making the whole place look nice. Let’s enjoy it, yeah?”

“It was Harry that brought the blanket. And the food,” Zayn admits, sheepishly. Niall sits down on it, and raises his eyebrows.

“Oh yeah, and Ariana did the bunting?”

Zayn shrugs, smiling. “It’s lovely, innit? M’gonna put it up in my room, after.”

“You’re a sap,” Niall says, but he sounds delighted. Zayn doesn’t miss the way he shifts when Zayn sits down beside him, either – moving so that his whole body is leaning against Zayn’s.

“Cried a bit when she gave it to me,” Zayn says, and Niall knocks his shoulder against him.

“What about the fairy lights? Did you do them?”

“Perrie,” Zayn replies. He feels, rather than sees, the way that Niall tenses at that. “Hey, now,” He says. “No being jealous, you love Perrie. Anyway, she was the one that got my head out of my arse in the first place, like. Sat me down and told me that I was in love with you.”

“You had to be told?”

Zayn looks down at the fraying blanket. “So I’m a little unobservant. I mean, like. How long did you know? About me?”

Niall blinks at him. Before, he’d turned away from Zayn, too busy focusing on the selection of sandwiches that Harry had scraped together for him. Now, he’s looking at Zayn, surprised. “I’ve always known, babe. I mean, shit,” He shakes his head. “Since that first day, when Louis dragged you over to the table in the bar I’ve thought you were fit as fuck. I mean, look at you.”

Zayn flushes embarrassed, and brings his hands up to cover his face. “What about Barbara?” He asks, squinting at Niall between his fingers. Niall’s face falls.

“I mean, I loved her, yeah. Thought I was maybe getting over you, thought that we’d work out, but, we didn’t,” He looks a little sad for a moment; and Zayn feels terrible for bringing it up. Hesitantly reaching out to touch Niall’s hip, he watches as Niall’s eyes flick back to his and he smiles. “Doesn’t matter now, though,” Niall says, he turns – so that he’s fully facing Zayn, and brings one hand up to touch his face. “Got you now, don’t I?”

“For as long as you want me,” Zayn shrugs, trying to keep it casual despite the way this whole thing is still causing his heart to jackhammer in his chest.

“That’s good,” Niall says. He looks so happy that you could probably bottle him as sunshine. “Reckon I’ll want you for a while, yet.”

He leans forwards to kiss Zayn again, and Zayn lets him, for a while - before leaning back and saying, “No, stop, wait,” Niall pulls back, looking at Zayn and frowning. “Your guitar. It’s here because you have to play your song for me.”

Niall flushes, red, and looks away. “What? Who told you that?” He asks.

“Dunno, everyone,” Zayn shrugs. “Why?”

“It’s about you,” Niall says, then he looks away clearly mortified. “Most of my songs are about you,” He says.

Zayn doesn’t know what his face is doing - but it must be something embarrassingly sappy, because when Niall finally looks at him again, everything softens in his face, and he sighs. “Guess you really want me to play it now, huh?” He asks. Zayn nods, trying not to look too eager. “Okay,” He breathes, standing up and grabbing his guitar.

He walks back, plonks himself down directly in front of Zayn, and pulls the guitar into his lap. “Um,” He says, shifting awkwardly, and looking away from Zayn again. “Um, this one. Um, this is tentatively called, ‘I Want to Write You a Song.’”

Zayn holds his breath, and Niall begins to play.

*

Zayn doesn’t know how much time has passed since Ed and Ellie shoved Niall into the gallery. He lost track of time after Niall finished playing. The moments between when he finally put the guitar down - face bright red, and the moment Zayn pounced into his lap, unable to put his feelings into words have blurred together.

The song was soulful and sweet, and the way that Niall had glanced at Zayn shyly as he was playing had put Zayn’s heart into his throat. Zayn doesn’t  know how much time has passed since Ed and Ellie shoved Niall into the gallery, but it’s clearly been long enough that everyone else is getting sick of waiting of them.

“Zayn, if you two haven’t gotten your shit together, yet then we’re leaving without-“ Louis’ call gets cut off mid-sentence when he walks into the second part of the gallery. Zayn reluctantly rolls off Niall. “Oh Jesus, my eyes! I’m never looking at either of you the same way again,” Louis says. Zayn looks up from where he’d been preoccupied with Niall’s neck embarrassedly, to the sight of Louis dramatically flinging an arm over his eyes and staggering backwards - into where Liam’s standing with Ariana.

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Niall says, going bright red. He shoves Zayn off him, and then, when the two of them are sitting up straight - drops his face so that it’s hidden on Zayn’s shoulder. “Not like everyone hasn’t had to walk in on you and Harry at some point in their life.”

“The foursome is officially off the table,” Louis says, glaring.

“The _what_?” Niall asks, looking at Zayn. Zayn shakes his head.

“So, are you guys sorted now?” Ariana asks, looking between the two of them.

“Yeah, are you?” Liam asks, “Because we gave you so long that Ed and Ellie went on to get the bus home by themselves. They couldn’t be arsed waiting around.”

“Ugh,” Louis says – hands still over his eyes. “I still can’t believe I had to see you two like that. It was almost incestuous.”

“We owe you one, Tommo,” Niall says, still smiling. Louis finally looks at the two of them, clearly considering.

“Well, if you really feel like you owe me one, bro - you could start doing the dishes in the kitchen again. They’re getting to the point that I genuinely fear I may get crushed by the pile. It would be pretty good to stop having to bring home paper plates. I think they’re starting to get suspicious of me in work.”

“You could always clean them yourself,” Niall says, mildly. “It’s not that hard, you know. Definitely cheaper than having to buy ridiculous amounts of paper plates.”

Louis scoffs. “I haven’t been buying them. Hence the suspicion at work. Anyway, cleaning dishes is what we have you for, Niall. The only reason we keep you around.”

“Hey, now. I keep him around for slightly more than that,” Zayn says, tightening the arm he has looped around Niall, and pulling their bodies flush together. He smiles at the way Niall goes slightly pink at that, his cheek coming to rest on Zayn’s shoulder. Perrie coos at the two of them.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Jesy says. “Now that you two are fucking, does that mean I can have Niall’s bedroom? I hate sleeping on the ground floor.”

Niall looks at Zayn, awkwardly. “We haven’t, um. We haven’t talked about that yet, Jesy.”

“But Zayn would love to have you share with him, right, Zayn?” Perrie cuts in, staring at Zayn. It’s kind of concerning, really, how invested she seems in the two of them; Zayn sticks his tongue out at her.

“Fuck off, Perrie,” He says, pulling a face at her; she doesn’t seem phased, simply grinning in response. Niall still seems tense and uncomfortable, sitting beside Zayn, so Zayn turns to him. “If you want to share with me, I’d love that,” He says, moving his arm from where it’s wrapped around Niall’s shoulder, sinking it lower and lower – until his hand is on Niall’s hip.

Niall flushes, going bright pink and shifting in Zayn’s arms. When he does look at Zayn, though, he’s grinning. “I think I could cope,” He says. “I mean. S’not like you haven’t infiltrated my bed enough times in the past.”

“Yes!” Jesy exclaims, pumping her fist into the air. “No more being on ground level, trying to ignore when one of you fuckers thinks five thirty in the morning is an acceptable time to make a cheese toastie.”

“I was going on a run,” Liam shrugs. Not looking that apologetic. They all stare at him.

“We need to go back to the house as soon as we possibly can. Right now immediately,” Louis says, glowering at Liam, “I need something to throw at Liam that isn’t Zayn’s art. Something soft enough I can pretend it was in the spirit of friendship, but hard enough that it would still kind of hurt.”

“What about a shoe?” Jesy asks.

Louis moves to take off his shoe, but Perrie steps in, putting a hand across his chest. “You are _not_ throwing your shoe at Liam in the middle of Zayn’s art exhibition, you fucking moron.”

Louis looks at the shoe, and then back at Perrie’s unimpressed face. He puts his shoe back on.

“Well then,” Ariana says, looking amused. “Are we all heading back home, now? Only I promised Leigh that the two of us would study together, and it’s pushing it kind of late.”

“She didn’t ask me to study with her,” Liam frowns.

“That’s because the two of you definitely wouldn’t be studying, Liam,” Niall says, standing up. He turns around, extending his hand out towards Zayn to pull him to standing position, too. Zayn purposefully staggers into him a little when he gets to his feet, and Niall grins.

“Seriously, guys. Can we leave? I promised I’d be back to meet Leigh ages ago.”

“It’s not my fault we’re taking so long!” Louis says, “Harry was the one that wanted to let them have their moment.”

“Yeah, but we waited so long they had multiple moments,” Jesy says.

“Shut up and go wait in the boot, Jesy,” Zayn replies.

Jesy scoffs at him, clearly affronted. “Uh,” She says, “You’re not going to be shoving me into the boot again, thanks! I did my time. I vote that you and Niall get in there.”

“You can’t,” Liam says. “Niall’s claustrophobic.”

Perrie shrugs. “I vote that we just shove Harry and Louis in there.”

“No,” Zayn says. “They’d end up shagging or something.”

“That’s probably logistically impossible,” Harry says.

“Guys,” Liam cuts in, before everyone can properly get into it. “Now that Niall’s here, we’ve got an extra person. We’re going to have to shove three people in the boot.”

Zayn puts his finger on his nose. Instantly, everyone follows suit. They all look around, as if the slowest three people will magically become obvious.

They don’t.

“Fuck it,” Jesy says. “Just shove the three smallest people in there. It’s the only way we’re going to get this done. Not like the journey’s that long, anyway.”

Louis, Ariana and Perrie groan, loudly. Niall cackles, his whole face lighting up. Zayn looks down at him, fond.

When Niall catches his eye, he smiles, pushing up to his tiptoes to leave a kiss high on Zayn’s cheekbone. Louis makes fake vomiting noises, and Zayn grins.

The rest of this year is looking like it’s going to be pretty great.

*

**Epilogue**

“I can’t believe it, lads!” Liam says, face lighting up as he readjusts his hat for the tenth time in a row. “We’re actually fucking graduating.”

“I know,” Leigh says, smiling. “It’s insane.”

Jesy laughs, looking around where they’re all standing. “Yeah, can’t believe I’ve actually put up with you lot for three years, now.”

“You love us,” Louis says, jumping onto her back. She frowns, makes a half hearted attempt to shake him off, and then laughs again.

“Guess I do, Tommo. You’ve grown on me.”

“Like a rash,” Perrie cuts in. Louis blows a kiss to her.

“In all seriousness, though, you guys are some of the best people I’ve ever met,” Jade says, looking around everyone sincerely. “I love you all.”

“Cheesy as fuck,” Perrie says. Ed nods.

“Necessary though,” Ellie reprimands, elbowing both Perrie and Ed, from where she’s standing in between the two of them. “No one gets to be a downer on graduation day, it’s a rule.”

“Who made it up?” Leigh asks, Ellie glares at her.

“Me! And Niall, and Ariana.”

Niall lifts his head off where it’s been resting on Zayn’s shoulder. His hand stays in Zayn’s cloak’s pocket, though, tangled with Zayn’s like the best kind of secret. He nods at Leigh seriously.

“Yeah, Leigh,” He says. “You can’t talk shit on graduation. What if we never see each other after this? We can’t part on a bad note.”

Louis whistles, “Shit, Nialler. Way to be really fucking depressing.”

“He has a point. I mean, I am going back to stay with my parents for a year or so,” Ariana says. “University was great, but I’m definitely going to be paying off my debt for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t talk about leaving,” Harry says. “I don’t want to cry before it’s all happened.”

“You’re crying already,” Zayn says, dryly. Harry glares at him.

“No, that’s Liam,” He replies. Liam glances at the two of them from where he’s been trying to wipe his eyes without anyone noticing. Everyone laughs.

“Fuck off,” He says. “It’s _sad_.”

“Nah, it’s not,” Niall says, he sways into Zayn, and Zayn braces himself to take his weight. He loves Niall against him. Loves Niall in any way, but it’s good to have him there, directly. “It’s just the next chapter, innit?”

“Yeah, you and Zayn taking that next chapter together, Horan?” Ellie says, pointedly. Niall flashes a grin at her that’s all teeth.

“Course we are. Always wanted to live in England, innit? Zayn’s gonna get a job as a teacher, and I’m going to be his sugar baby. Stay at home and mooch off all his good money.”

“S’not true,” Zayn says, smiling. “Niall’s gonna be famous, worldwide musician, innit?”

“You two are sweet,” Perrie says, she blows them a kiss. Zayn and Niall pretend to catch it simultaneously.

“Aw,” Liam says, clapping his hands together.

“Ugh,” Jesy says, rolling her eyes.

Louis jumps down from her back and does finger guns, “I agree with Jesy!” He says, looking regretful of his lame hand actions almost instantly.

“You can’t,” Harry tells him, wrapping both arms around his waist, tight. “You were the one that got them both together.”

“Give Zayn some credit,” Jade says. “He figured out that he was in love with Niall eventually.”

“Yeah, after I told him,” Perrie says.

Jesy snorts. “Oh, please. You got a chance to sleep with him. Don’t act like you aren’t one of the luckiest people in the world.”

“Aw, Jess,” Zayn smirks.”I think that’s the nicest thing that you’ve ever said to me.”

“I’ll punch you,” She threatens.

“No punching my boyfriend,” Niall presses himself impossibly closer to Zayn, and Zayn untangles their hands - just to wrap himself around Niall.

“Gross,” Louis tells them, but he has no room to talk. Harry has managed to curl his great, gangly body so that it’s completely draped over Louis. Zayn pulls a face at him, Louis pulls one back.

“I am going to miss you all,” Zayn says, suddenly. He looks around at their weird, eclectic mix of people and his throat suddenly feels tight. “S’been good, innit? Some good times?”

“The best,” Louis shrugs. Everyone else nods.

Niall turns around in Zayn’s arms, pulls Zayn’s face down towards him. “Can’t wait to see what else is coming,” He whispers into Zayn’s ear. When he pulls back, his whole face is bright. Happy, shining. He looks like sunlight.

Zayn kisses him.

**Author's Note:**

> Here are some general notes on things/places in the fic:
> 
> \- The Holylands are a real place, and they are a student area. It has a wikipedia page  
> \- The whole fic was written based on the scene by the river @ night  
> \- 7 people live in the house; Louis, Zayn, Liam, Harry, Niall, Jesy and Perrie. Harry n Louis have an attic bedroom, Jesy has a bedroom on the ground floor, the other three have first floor bedrooms. I took some liberty w house size.  
> \- Louis' denim jacket that stinks is inspired by my mate's denim jacket that smelled rlly, rlly bad. She had to throw it out.  
> \- Maggie Mays is a real café. My friend actually did find a caterpillar in her salad.  
> \- The inspiration for the mug Harry got Zayn w/ a naked man on came from a mug my mother owned. I later found out Harry actually bought Niall one of those mugs as a present.  
> \- I love Boojum. It's my favourite place to eat out. Ever.  
> \- Zayn's hideous gold grinder actually exists, is actually on Amazon for ~£3 and I own it.  
> \- The book Zayn goes to read that Harry reccommended to him was, "Invisible Monsters" by Palahnuik.  
> \- I couldn't resist the mention of, "Good Kisser" by Usher. A lot of this fic was written to that song.  
> \- Established Coffee where Harry works is the most hipster establishment in Belfast. I think it's required you have long hair as a man to work there.  
> \- The Wuthering Heights, Yeats and Streetcar references were me cramming my English A Level into the fic as I saw fit.  
> \- The rugby match they go to see in Dublin is Ireland vs Italy which is actually happening as part of the six nations. It’s in March, like. So, I don’t know. The fic isn’t set in a specific period of time ‘coz I’m shit at planning stuff like that.  
> \- I'm not a native Dubliner, so if I managed to put any errors in there then I'm really sorry. My knowledge of Dublin is pretty much; O'Conell Street, Boojum, Temple Bar and how to get to the 3Arena.  
> \- Golden Threads is a real gallery, and really cool. Dierbhile is based of a woman that actually works there. Dierbhile is said, "Der-vla"  
> \- There were a lot more dick jokes in this fic than I thought there'd be
> 
> Any other questions/complaints, then hmu @[niallhiran](http://niallhiran.tumblr.com)


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